Mass Divergence
by hierosian
Summary: It was unexpected, to say the least. The Citadel Council, the MSY, Governance - they all faced a new, confusing world. And, for those closest to the expanding shockwave, a very different life... [Crossover of Mass Effect, To the Stars, and Solemnis]
1. First Impressions

"E-E-Z-O, hyped up in various publications as 'eezo' or even 'Element Zero', is an unusual form of rare, non-baryonic matter. Unlike the typical form, which coagulates into inert dark matter that does not interact with regular matter, eezo is perfectly visible to the naked eye, and has numerous exotic properties."

The speaker paused mid-gesture, peering out over the teaching hologram at the small gaggle of teenagers, making sure they understood.

Shizuki Ryouko, interstellar exchange program scientific trainee, nodded vigorously. It was the polite thing to do, even if she knew everything that the speaker was saying; she had been here for months, after all, and certainly knew the basics.

Her new girlfriend, however, a certain Nakihara Asami, didn't know the basics. She was here in the same program, but as a xenobiologist, not a physicist, and she was here on lab tour because she had captured repeated videos of the local fauna using what appeared to be telekinesis—videos that were controversial, to put it mildly.

Asami squeezed her hand, glancing at her playfully, and Ryouko blushed slightly, looking away. It was an odd experience, having a relationship, but they had met at the MSY meet-and-greet party a month ago and hit it off immediately. One thing led to another and here they were.

Satisfied with their nods, the speaker continued, stroking the hologram with her hand and causing it to switch from a schematic of an eezo crystal to historical images of researchers huddled around a computing terminal.

"Before the discovery of this planet, Nazra Invictus, eezo was only known in nanogram quantities from particle accelerators. No one had ever succeeded in producing a stable form, despite numerous attempts by distinguished researchers and labs. The fundamental problem was that, even though theoretical models predicted that a stable form _must_ exist, and that it would have very novel antigravitational properties, these same models also implied that the stable form could only form under extreme pressures, such as found in the core of neutron stars, or transiently in supernovas. Once it was realized that supernovas could produce detectable quantities of eezo, it was hoped that stellar surveys might reveal substantial deposits of the material."

A woman in the crowd raised her hand politely, and the speaker paused. _Emma Sinclair_ , Ryouko identified, using her nomenclator on the woman.

"Isn't it the case that the trans-iron elements were also all formed in supernovas?" Emma asked. "Those elements are everywhere, but we couldn't find Element Zero?"

" _Eezo_ ," the speaker corrected. "But a very good question. Remember, however, that eezo is non-baryonic, and even though stars do a good job of concentrating non-baryonic matter at their cores, a lot of dark matter lies between galaxies, unreachable. It was later realized that most supernovas would produce only trace quantities of the material."

She cleared her throat, looking out over the cluster of students again.

"More importantly, though, it was realized that the properties of eezo would make it very difficult to collect on planetary bodies. Even small amounts of charge would lower its mass enough to ignore gravitational effects, causing what trace amounts were found to be lost in the void. It was expected that harvesting eezo might require a tremendous effort, and most interest was lost."

"Until Nazra Invictus," one of the students said expectantly.

"Yes," the speaker agreed, as the hologram shifted to an image of the planet. "When the planetary survey probe first scanned the planet, the readings were at first completely disbelieved. Attitudes changed when a formal survey team was sent, and they reported back that eezo was indeed present in large deposits, that it was stable at a macroscopic scale, and that it really did float if charged."

The scientist smiled to herself slightly, like a magician about to reveal her greatest trick.

The hologram vanished, and a small rock, about the size of Ryouko's fist, floated out of the terminal, glowing blue, eliciting ooo's from the crowd.

"Ten years ago, this hunk of rock would have been worth more than some planets," the scientist said proudly. "The discoveries on this planet have the potential to revolutionize the gravitonics industry, and the Governance economy as a whole."

Emma raised her hand again, and again the speaker acknowledged her.

"I thought you said that it was expected eezo wouldn't accumulate on a planetary surface. What happened to that?"

Ryouko squeezed Asami's hand nervously, causing Asami to look over. She shook her head to signal that nothing was wrong. No one was supposed to know outside of a few senior scientists and officials, but the lab director had spread the information downward on a purely "you did not hear this from me" basis, now that the official announcement was almost here.

Nearly a year ago, eezo miners digging into a particularly rich vein of eezo had found, not just more eezo, but what appeared to eezo _devices_ , clearly artificial and full of unknown technology. Further archaeological study had revealed an extensive set of ruins, an entire city— _Alien_ ruins, of course. Even more spectacularly, the ruins had pointed to a massive alien device in orbit around one of the system's gas giants; there was already a science station studying it. The new theory was that the eezo hadn't accumulated naturally; it had been laboriously collected by this mysterious alien race, who had died out somehow, roughly 70,000 years ago.

Momentous news. Momentous enough that Governance had spent nearly a year chewing over how to announce it to the public. Hearing about it had wiped out any doubts Ryouko had had about coming to Nazra. She felt privileged to have heard about it before anyone else.

In response to Emma, though, the speaker only smiled broadly.

"No one knows, Miss Sinclair. Our studies are still ongoing."

* * *

"I can't believe I'm stuck doing this," Ryouko thought at Asami. "I'm supposed to be showing _you_ around the lab, not this Investment Analyst from Hashimoto-St. Claire or whatever."

She glanced over at Asami, who had fallen in politely behind Emma, to see if she had any reaction to the comment.

"It's not so bad," Asami thought. "I still get to see the lab, don't it? And you shouldn't talk that way about a fellow magical girl. You did notice that, right?"

"Of course I did," Ryouko thought bitterly. "That just means we're going to have to do introductions by telepathy or something. More complications. And Flori is just making me do this so she doesn't have to talk to Emma herself."

"Oh Ryouko, you're just mad we're not getting alone time like we planned."

Ryouko suppressed an annoyed huff. Asami wasn't wrong, of course.

"I just want to spend some time with you without anyone else butting in," Ryouko groused. "That's not so wrong is it?"

"No, I understand," thought Asami. A current of telepathy something like a pat on the head made Ryouko smile unconsciously. "I'm sure we'll have some soon. Don't be impatient. Let's just get through this and try to make the most of it."

"Right, right, introductions," Ryouko sighed as her face fell again. "Great…"

The Governance nomenclator was extremely helpful, but one thing it didn't do was tell you anything about the MSY aspect of things, for obvious reasons. Yuma might have led the MSY deep into the Governance computing structure, but not _so_ deep that the MSY could leave evidence of its existence everywhere in public databases.

Right on cue, Emma relayed the thought:

"Man, I didn't expect to meet two more mages this quickly. S'nice to meet you. So look, technically, I'm supposed to look at this Element Zero stuff. Hashimoto and Sinclair—or the Shizukis, which is honestly the same thing—are interested in the material. Still I have to admit, it's… not really my thing. Do you guys do anything other than science around here?"

"So. Drsti Center is the big physics center for eezo on this planet, as you probably know," Ryouko said out loud. "There's a lot of open questions regarding eezo physics, even though everyone understands the basic 'apply electricity, lower mass' principle at this point. For example, the lab I work for studies the possible application of eezo to faster-than-light travel. There's a lot of possibilities for combining eezo with standard pseudo-Alcubierre drives, but it would have to be done carefully."

Ryouko stopped talking, realizing that what she had intended to be the public, spoken half of the conversation had gone on way too long. She really needed to learn how to talk and send thoughts at the same time, like the older girls.

"Pretty much just science," Ryouko thought, trying to continue the trailing end of the telepathic conversation. "The Center, anyway. Asami and I are technically part of the demon hunting team for this planet, but we're underutilized. We're really here to learn to be future MSY scientists, or something."

She paused.

"And, uh, call it eezo instead of Element Zero. There are several people in my lab, including the Director, who secretly want to kill you every time you call it that. It's… not scientific at all."

"Oh, that sounds interesting," Emma said out loud. It had the whiff of a well-practiced line to it. "I guess… having eezo in a ship's warp bubble might really mess things up, yeah?"

"Gotcha," Emma thought simultaneously. "Actually, I'm going to be on this planet for a while, so I'm technically part of the demon hunting team too, since you guys need to be shipped cubes. Apparently they're short on vets, and need to train some of the newer girls?"

"Don't call it a warp bubble either, please," Ryouko thought back, with a restrained grimace. "And yes, actually, we would be the new girls. We… haven't actually done much demon hunting. I've been on… one, so far?"

"I've been on _two!_ " Asami interjected proudly.

"Ah. I guess that makes me your senpai," Emma thought, not sounding entirely pleased by the prospect.

Ryouko pursed her lips but didn't comment. They'd arrived at the lab where she worked.

"This is the lab I work for, High-Speed Eezo, under Director Olander. It's actually pretty cool to look at."

They moved to stand at a wide, perspex window for a thoughtful moment. It partitioned off the experimental space from the desks where the researchers did their analysis. Inside, a football-sized chunk of eezo glowed blue as it floated above a very broken-looking hemispherical device. Lab personnel were scurrying about, and a small group peered skeptically into a box on the floor.

Ryouko looked down at the floor for a moment while Emma and Asami stared. The truth was, even though the lab work was genuinely interesting, it just wasn't what she had pictured when she had wished to explore the world. She was grateful to the MSY for the opportunity, but a part of her felt rebelliously aware that by being here, she was basically fulfilling her parents' dream life for her. In fact, it had been everything she and her father could do to talk her mother out of following her here—no teenager wanted the embarrassment of a parent tagging along to her first real chance to live alone.

She sighed. In truth, though, she kind of missed her family, even if having her mother around would probably have been a problem vis-a-vis Asami.

"Well, let's move on," she said, pulling the others away from the glowing blue rock. "You'll probably want to see Dolezal's lab. He's working on applications of eezo to transportation. He has a tiny hovercart that he likes to show off. Just be, uh, prepared to fall off a lot."

* * *

"Well it'll be good for you," said Ayane, curled up against Emma in their VR living room.

With work over for the day, Emma had elected to make a visit over VR to Ayane. Strictly speaking, she should probably have finished that write-up of her first day of lab visits…

...well it'd be fine, it wasn't like she couldn't file it later. Ayane's schedule had picked up lately, with the latest migration of storks from mainland Asia. This was one of the few windows they had to meet over VR. While expensive, the MSY was kind of useful for these sorts of things.

"I guess," said Emma, running her hand through Ayane's hair. "I mean, I've done it before, when I was a kid. It's just been a long time since I last mentored anyone."

"You'll be fine," said Ayane. "You've always had an air of leadership around you."

"You think?"

"I think it's because you started doing that sort of thing when you were young. It sticks with you, you know?"

"Mmm, I guess. I did do pretty good that one time, when we met."

"Oh hush, I totally would have been fine!" Ayane protested, twisting around to slap Emma on the knee. "A quick loop and I'd have dodged that demon."

"Yeah, but you can't deny that we did pretty good that day," said Emma, curling a strand of Ayane's hair around her finger. She grinned at the memory. "You know, we should do a spar. It's been a boring day, and it's fun trying to catch you."

"I think you just like what we do afterwards," said Ayane, rolling her eyes but pecking Emma on the cheek. "I won't let you win this time though!"

Ayane transformed with a flash of amber light, her costume's cloak dropping down around her shoulders as she pulled Emma to her feet. The living room became a practice arena as Emma transformed in a burst of blue, red battle robes and armor plate falling into place.

"So I guess that means you like what we do afterwards too, hmm?" asked Emma, twirling her halberd, then snapping it into a guard. "Or am I just better than you?"

"As if!" Ayane laughed back, drawing two daggers out of the air and crouching. "That just means that I have to go easy on you sometimes, otherwise you'd never win."

"Oh really? Let's see then!"

The two girls charged each other in a burst of amber and blue. Dagger met halberd in an explosion of sparks, before the two of them leapt up and vied for altitude, dancing and swirling in midair in perfect harmony. The two clashed at the peak of their climb, Ayane using her daggers to twist Emma's halberd into a lock and pinning them against each other. Emma frowned, and tried to remove her halberd from the lock.

"Not gonna happen!" Ayane said, before driving a knee into Emma's abdomen with a clang. "Ow!"

"Armor, remember?" asked Emma, before letting go of her halberd completely and grabbing Ayane's leg. She twisted as they fell, spinning into a throw that chucked Ayane at the ground at high speed.

Of course, it didn't work.

With a shout, Ayane burst upwards to smash into Emma, the two of them arcing into a tumbling, spinning trajectory for the far end of the pitch. Ayane flared her magic, twisting so that Emma was beneath her. The ground rushed upwards and—

—Emma pulled at Ayane's costume, tugging her into a kiss as they landed on a suddenly-appearing bed. They detransformed in a flash of green.

* * *

Properly speaking, the colony on Nazra Invictus was broken up amongst several different locations. Nazra's equatorial regions had the highest concentrations of eezo on the planet, and most of the work being done on the exotic substance was being conducted at Drsti Center and Nhan Luc Station. The two locations were only ten minutes drive from each other.

Both were situated at the base of the lush Kirana Valley. The rise of Nazra's sun arced through the mouth of the valley at almost exactly 0632 hours at this point in the planet's orbit, and the atmosphere was dense enough to light the sky with a deep, intense red. As the planet spun about its axis, the light of its star shifted through the visible spectrum in a dizzying array of color that, set against the craggy peaks lining the valley, was unique in the system, if not the galaxy.

Drsti Center and Nhan Luc Station held two distinct, but closely tied roles. Drsti Center, called "the DC" by the locals, was in charge of running eezo experiments and analyzing the subsequent data. It was also where most of the researchers did their work, along with using the lecture halls to give the occasional lecture to newcomers or present theories that, almost inevitably it seemed, were invalidated for one reason or another.

Nhan Luc Station was in charge of eezo extraction and the analysis of how to handle, store, and use its known properties in engineering contexts. As it was, the material was so new that many of the research engineers at NLS did just as much theoretical work as the researchers at the DC, on top of their other duties.

Emma grunted, then rolled over as a foot nudged her from where she had been napping on top of a stack of prefabricated residence cubes. The cube stacks were scattered around the valley, based entirely on the biology team deciding what parts of the valley seemed least likely to hold important information on the local ecology. Each cube was designed to be large enough for four people to live comfortably, and the interior was subdivided to make this possible. Waste products were processed locally before being discharged.

This processing was one of the driving factors in making the cubes quite tall. In the end, each cube, fully assembled, stood two stories high. Stacking multiples on top of each other tended to make small cities appear overnight. Getting up and down them was accomplished through an elevator installed on the side.

"Hey," Emma heard. The foot nudged her again.

"Mneh, go away," Emma mumbled, curling up.

"Heyyyyy," The foot prodded her quite firmly in the kidney.

"Ah, fine, I'm up I'm up," Emma sighed, getting to her feet. She stretched, feeling her spine crack underneath her costume's armor plating. "Mm. That was a nice nap."

"How do you sleep this much?" asked Ryouko, looking exasperated. "It's not even past ten PM!"

"Best way to get through a boring, useless lecture," said Emma, turning and planting her hands on her hips. "You've had those before, right?"

"No," Ryouko said bluntly. She shrugged as Emma gave her a mildly incredulous look. "I always liked science things."

"Well congrats," said Emma, rolling her eyes. She checked her chronometer. "And it's still early yet! Why'd you wake me up?"

"We were bored," said Asami. She shrugged as well. "We got here early and didn't know what else to do."

Emma sighed. "Well the thing to do is usually to just wait until the others get here. It's not like we can get any practice in without blowing something up."

Ryouko and Asami frowned. Being a magical girl was turning out to involve quite a lot of waiting. Waiting, and boredom.

Emma frowned right back at them. Served them right for making her wake up before everyone else got there.

"Well… couldn't we um… talk about tactics, or something?" asked Asami after a moment of frowning at each other. "I mean, Ryouko and I haven't done that many hunts, and since you're older…."

Emma paused, glancing at the two of them. If she guessed correctly…

"You two are dating?" asked Emma. "Am I right?"

Ryouko and Asami flushed slightly, reaching for the other's hand.

"Ah, that's right," said Asami. "We met at the MSY meet-and-greet, when we joined up with the science teams."

"Hmm, then consider this my first bit of senpai-ing," said Emma with a grin. She sent a file to Ryouko and Asami. "It's some important information for new couples that I picked up when I started dating a girl."

Curiously, the couple downloaded the file and opened it. They immediately went bright red.

"Agh, what is this?!" Ryouko flailed, shutting the file immediately and rounding on Emma with a scandalized glare. "Why would you send that?!"

Emma keeled over laughing, unable to respond.

"Now, now, Ms. Sinclair," said Nadya Antipova, a veteran telekinetic, as she landed nearby. "It's not nice to tease the new girls."

"Did you see their faces though?!" Emma managed. "That was amazing!"

"You're terrible!" Ryouko shouted, turning to Asami for support. "Asami, I'm right aren't— Asami!"

Asami blinked, coming out of her daze. "Ah, what?"

"Asami, are you _still reading it?!_ "

"N-no!" said Asami quickly, pressing her lips together guiltily. Ryouko buried her face in her hands as Emma's laughs faded into dry wheezing, having run out of air in her lungs.

* * *

By the time the remaining six girls had arrived, Ryouko and Asami had managed to stop blushing and Nadya had finished scolding Emma for being a terrible senpai. The team milled about for a few minutes, chatting and catching up on the events of the day. Nobody particularly wanted to go on the hunt just yet. The population on Nazra Invictus simply wasn't large enough to spark any particular feeling of urgency towards the hunt.

Eventually, however, the hunt got underway, with the more experienced girls taking the lead and flank positions. Ryouko and Asami stayed in the middle, even though there wasn't much risk of getting caught by surprise, while Emma ended up taking the rear.

"So tell me some more about how you two met." Emma thought. "I'm curious."

Ryouko sent back only stony silence, still annoyed at the prank from earlier.

"Well, it's like I said before," Asami thought with a shrug. "We met at an MSY get together. We talked awhile, stayed in contact, and started dating."

"Well yeah, I had one too before my group flew out," thought Emma, rolling her eyes. "But that's not exactly a story. C'mon, details!"

"Well…"

* * *

" _You mean you've_ never _been off-world? How ridiculous!"_

 _The piercing voice, sharp and unpleasant, cut through the air, catching Ryouko's attention almost as if it were intended for her._

 _Ryouko, who had been lounging in a corner cradling a cup of spiced cider, looked up. No one around her seemed to have noticed anything, but she felt compelled to find the source of the comment._

" _I… I've been to Mars," a hesitant voice responded, as Ryouko waded into the small crowd. Why did this particular conversation intrigue her so much? Maybe it was the tone—or maybe she was just bored._

" _Mars? Did you hear that, girls? She's been to Mars! We should all bow down, obviously."_

 _Ryouko finally found the source of conversation, a small crowd of girls gathered around a short, meek-looking girl cringing in the corner. She sighed. She knew what this was._

" _Tell us more about your adven— hey!" the apparent lead girl continued, interrupted by Ryouko, who had shoved her aside._

" _You don't have to stick around for this," Ryouko said, grabbing the victim—Nakihara Asami—by her arm and moving to pull her away from the group of girls._

" _Hey, that's rude," the lead girl, a certain Inga Sokoloff, said, grabbing Ryouko in turn by the arm._

 _Ryouko turned to look at Inga, realizing that all the girls there were much taller than either she or Asami. This wasn't a function of age—just of height. The other girls were also dressed much more elaborately, in fashionable evening wear rather than something straightforward._

" _Sokoloff, is it?" she said, out loud, ignoring the hand clutching one of her sleeves. "I hear your family still hasn't recovered from the purges. If you're in need of any more loans, I wouldn't be rude to a Shizuki. Someone had to pay for your little pleasure excursions to Tikal."_

 _It was a—_

* * *

"Wait hold on, _Ryouko_ said _that?_ " asked Emma, skepticism evident in her telepathy. "Bloody hell. Wouldn't have expected it from her."

"Oh really," thought Ryouko, telepathy flat and unamused. "Why's that then?"

"Uh, well, you're… I dunno… small and cute looking rather than badass looking?"

"Well, you know, it turns out that when you're small and cute, you can keep your eyes open and learn how to do things, which is a little hard when you're large and sleep twenty hours a day."

Emma blinked.

"...did you just call me a panda or something?"

"Something like that."

"Yeesh. I'm sorry for calling you short, snippy."

"Well—"

"ANYWAY," interrupted Asami loudly. "As I was saying…"

* * *

 _...It was a complete bluff, of course, trading on the Shizuki family name when Ryouko had only learned anything about it two weeks before. But, she had spent the interim researching her matriarchies, and knew all about the sordid history of the Sokoloffs._

 _Tikal, of course, was a vacation planet that had garnered a well-earned reputation for depravity. It was said that there were many things for sale there that Governance overlooked_ only _because it was the business of consenting adults._

" _How did you know—" Inga began automatically, before realizing that she had said way too much._

 _One of the other girls in the group snickered._

 _Ryouko took that moment to pull her arm away from Inga and drag Asami a safe distance away._

" _Look, Nakihara-san," she said, turning the other girl around. "You can't just let girls like that push you around like that. Girls like Inga get their fix torturing girls who can't fight back. I—"_

 _Ryouko paused, realizing that the other girl, besides being short enough to be eye level with her, was looking back at her with stars in her eyes._

" _I, uh, I was bullied as a kid, so I know what I'm talking about," Ryouko finished, suddenly feeling hot. Now that she was looking carefully, Asami was huddled pretty close to her, and well—_

 _Well, she could swing that way. She had realized that a while ago, even if her mom could have stood to be a little more surprised about the fact. Thus, if this Asami was—_

" _Hi, I'm Nakihara Asami," Asami said, cheerily. "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"_

 _Ryouko realized the girl hadn't heard a thing she had just said._

* * *

"That's literally the cheesiest thing I've ever heard," Emma thought bluntly.

"Oi—"

"But it's still adorable, so whatever and congratulations!" thought Emma cheerily. "Man, I feel lame in comparison."

"That's because you are."

"Oh hush, Ryouko. Y'see, me and Ayane, my girlfriend, met in much more, ah, 'normal' circumstances," continued Emma, rolling her eyes. "Y'see, it was back when we'd just finished Secondary, so me and the rest of my cohort decided to go to Osaka for a graduation trip. I got bored and went to a demon hunt, and met Ayane then."

"Ooooh," cooed Asami. "What do you mean 'lame', that's so romantic!"

"Well, I did save her from getting blindsided by a demon," preened Emma.

Ryouko went to snark again, then thought better of it. She'd probably punch someone who made nasty comments about Asami, and, well, Emma would be well within her rights to sock Ryouko if Ryouko did something similar.

"Well anyway, have you guys been able to practice with your powers much?" asked Emma.

"Not especially," thought Asami. "We've been very busy with lab and field work."

"Ah, okay. Well I guess we should talk to Nadya about—"

Emma cut herself off as a miasma flickered into her senses, rolling to the right as the patrol began to veer towards the distant signal.

"Feels like about three kilometers out?" thought Lillian Echizen, a clairvoyant who wielded a fairly large club. "Standard formation, Nadya?"

"I think so, yes," thought Nadya. "Barrier generators to the front, melee behind. We'll cut into—"

"Actually, Nadya," broke in Emma. "Could me an' the newbies get some work up front? Even for three kilometers, that's a pretty weak miasma."

The patrol mentally paused.

"Sounds good, they could use the practice," thought Nadya. "Emma, you have point for the assault."

"Roger that," thought Emma, grinning. A curtain of blue magic wrapped around her. "Ryouko, Asami, follow me!"

Emma jumped up, hanging in space for a half a second before launching herself forward on a gust of wind, cutting through the center of the patrol and leaving a glittering corona behind her.

"Don't call us newbies," grumbled Ryouko as she and Asami scrambled to keep up. "And should you really be doing that?"

"Eh, it's fine," thought Emma, rolling her eyes as she blew past Nadya with a nod. "You'd think somebody'd notice a bunch of magical girls flying around by this point in history, but lookin' around us, that isn't really the case."

"Still…"

"Ah, quit worrying, we're getting ready to attack," thought Emma. "Asami, you do things with gravity right? Can you create a local anti-grav field?"

"Er, sure?" thought Asami. "I'm— hmm... if I… yes, I think that should be fine."

"Cool. Ryouko, you port us in above, then give me a spray of fire. I'll go in hot."

"Alright."

"Can you port in motion?"

"Er… if we're not accelerating, yes."

"Alright, I want you to land on my shoulders, followed by Asami, then we go in, okay?"

"Er, okay? That's a crazy plan."

Emma grinned, then slowed her pace, with Ryouko speeding up to match her. "Now you're gettin' it, Ryouko! Crazy means showing off, and we're going to show those veterans what we can do."

"Is that—"

"Shut up and port us in! Go go go!"

Ryouko bit her lip and jumped, landing on Emma's back like she was jumping onto a hoverboard. Asami grabbed on a second later, and Ryouko reached and—

—pulled—

—and she was spinning in midair as Emma rocketed downwards with a shout, a wavefront of blue progressing before her before scattering the demons like so many bowling pins.

"Dammit Emma!" Ryouko shouted telepathically as she righted herself. She'd materialized them over the top of a group of residence blocks. "You damn idiot, warn me next time!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Emma laughed back, before cannoning into a group of demons with her halberd raised. "Gimme some arrows, Ryouko, come on!"

"They're _bolts,_ idiot!" Ryouko shouted, before raising her arbalest and twirling in midair. The green bolts—not arrows—cut through the air towards the footpaths between buildings, where the demons were spawning. The projectiles slammed into their targets with thin strings running back to her. She pulled back and—

—began firing again as soon as she reappeared, dismissing the shredded remnants of what demons she'd tagged. There was a deep, harmonic thrum as Asami glowed purple, then everything below them rose off the ground with alarming speed. Emma rocketed her way upwards, past Asami, then arcing back around to slam into—

—the wall with a crunch of shattering polymer and concrete, her body shedding the reinforcing magic that let her survive the impact. Asami had already moved, throwing herself sideways to avoid the tracking lasers from the demons. Ryouko ground her teeth as she pulled and—

—appeared behind Asami while shedding spent ammunition, the dying demons fading below while she grabbed Asami's hand and—

—appeared again on top of a—

—delivery drone, Asami's rapid shifts causing the gravity field to bend in completely arbitrary directions.

"Agh, what are you doing?!" Emma asked. "Goddammit, I hit my head falling into the fucking wall just now!"

"Sorry, got distracted," thought Ryouko blithely. "No wait, that was you and your goddamn pinball routine."

"Oh screw you, Ryouko," thought Emma. "Asami, you're okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine," thought Asami. Ryouko glanced down, and realized she'd pulled Asami into a protective cuddle at some point in the last few seconds. The other girl was blushing furiously.

Oh God.

"So if you two are done over there, I'd like to keep this up," thought Emma. "Things were going pretty good."

"You call that good?!"

"Now now, children, let's all stay calm," drawled Isabella. She was a colonist, from the Amala System near Nova Terra, and generated force-fields with a giant hammer. "Y'all are projecting over group telepathy. We're comin' in hot, so if Asami-chan could drop her grav field, that'd be great."

"R-right!"

Ryouko took in a breath as she spotted the remainder of the patrol. They'd arranged themselves into a wedge. Magic flashed, and the demons turned to—

—reel back, the confused tangle of cloth and pale, unearthly flesh burning away under the onslaught of an entire magical girl team's combined firepower.

"That's a wrap, ladies," thought Nadya over group telepathy. "Emma, Ryouko, Asami, you guys did well. A bit unorganized, but it's to be expected. Everyone else, good work, as usual. There's still a few more places to check before the night is over. Anybody need some cubes?"

Ryouko checked her gem. It glimmered brightly under Nazra's moons. "I'm good. Asami?"

"I'm fine."

"I could use a few," thought Emma. Ryouko took a small amount of vindictive pleasure that she hadn't used as much magic as Emma had.

Damned inefficient melee fighters. Ryouko was going to have to yank Emma's tail out of a fire at some point, she knew it.

* * *

"No doubt you are all wondering why we are gathered here."

 _Governance: Colonial Affairs_ had made some effort to try and look particularly distinguished. She'd apparently taken fashion advice from _Governance: Manufacturing_ , and was dressed in a pinstriped suit jacket and dress shirt. A concession had been made, and she was wearing a skirt with leggings rather than the usual, motion-restricting, business slacks. Her wide-spectrum scanner, worn over her left eye, had been replaced with some sort of high-tech monocle that glimmered purple around the edge.

"I don't have to tell you that a formal press conference is a rarity these days, conducted only on the most important of occasions. Indeed, I can tell you that I, personally, have never had the honor of conducting one. I can already hear the questions resounding on the Internet: why a press conference? Why one given by _Colonial Affairs_? Why one on the obscure planet of Nazra Invictus? Well, I am here to end the speculation."

Ryouko craned her neck, straining to see over the local luminaries seated in front of her, trying to spot her lab director in the crowd of attendees standing behind the avatar of Colonial Affairsand several other prominent Governance Representatives.

It was safe to say neither she nor Asami had ever been at an event of this magnitude, yet here they were; Ryouko had received an invitation by dint of her connection with the lab, and was allowed to bring one other person. She was well aware, though, that this was reflective of the size of the colony—any larger colony would have had a much larger share of various magistrates and poobahs to occupy the limited seating area. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Emma seated near the back, legs crossed and looking faintly bored.

Colonial Affairs gestured with her arm, and a hologram appeared on the stage, schematics of what looked like a broken, electronic box, incomplete circuitry displayed beneath the holographic surface.

"About a year ago, eezo miners near the equator of this planet unearthed a set of archaeological relics in their tunnels. _Alien_ archaeological relics, and not just rocks and axes, but the remains of clearly technological devices, of a sophistication equivalent to at least twenty-first century Earth."

The room was already buzzing, the mass of attendees turning to each other and issuing exclamations of surprise. Ryouko, for her part, snuck a glance at Asami, then Emma. The latter looked utterly astounded.

They didn't know the half of it, of course.

"A team of specialized archaeologists was immediately dispatched, of course, and what they found was astonishing."

The hologram switched to a 3D aerial view of what appeared to be a vast hole in the ground. A giant archaeological dig site, according to the text hovering on the bottom. It zoomed in, entering the hole and revealing what appeared to be an incomprehensible set of lines on the ground. As the view moved closer, these lines changed shape, extending out from the ground to become buildings, streets…

"This is a recreation of the city we've decided to call 'Rohe Hou'. At its height, it was an alien metropolis of at least two million, though estimates are preliminary, of course. It was these aliens, we believe, that gathered the eezo we've been mining on this planet, collecting it in a repository we now understand to be part of a vast ship-building complex."

When she paused, only for a moment, the volume of the crowd immediately surged, several hands immediately shooting up from the reporters in the complex, local reporters and bloggers on the verge of a story of a lifetime—critical stories were usually picked up by the much more prestigious Earthbound class of newspeople.

Colonial Affairs gestured at the crowd to settle down.

"For reasons we are still investigating, the city was abruptly abandoned roughly seventy thousand years ago, and shows evidence of being deliberately buried. Current theories focus on this being due to some sort of religious war, though this is obviously speculative at the moment. We do not know why anyone would try to bury a city."

She gestured again, and the hologram switched to a series of holographic reconstructions of artifacts, along with labels: eating utensils, chairs of some sort, jewelry, and, the most breathtaking, what appeared to be a stone carving of a triangle-headed alien with four hands moving his arms. The arms were surrounded by an aura, as was an object floating nearby.

Next to her, she felt Asami sit bolt upright.

"Amazingly enough, this is not even the most amazing find," Colonial Affairs continued. "Diagrams in the ruin indicated an alien artifact in orbit between the sixth and seventh planet of this system. Lengthy surveys were repeatedly unable to find this artifact, and we had concluded it was lost, when one of our surveyor probes in the rings of the sixth planet found something very unusual."

This time the hologram displayed an object of clearly alien design, shaped a bit like a cross, but with a wide, round opening in the middle. According to the listed measurements, it was breathtaking in size, larger even than Governance battlecruisers.

"We now believe that the alien artifact has shifted out of its original orbit over the millennia, though we are still unsure of the reasons. As you can see, it is enormous, and it is _not_ a ship. Indeed, we have thus far been unable to determine its exact composition, except that it contains an enormous amount of eezo. It is mysterious, but we have several teams of researchers already working on the artifact."

"After much initial deliberation, it was decided to delay the announcement of these discoveries to the rest of the Human Governance until it had been absolutely determined that there was no threat, either from this mysterious device or from the aliens themselves, if they're still around somehow. We had to be cognizant of all possibilities."

She paused dramatically.

"And now, I will take questions," she said.

* * *

"Why on _earth_ would I tell you?" Ryouko asked. Emma had sought out Ryouko the moment the former had finished sending a report off to HSIS, glowering and mildly offended. Ayane, meanwhile, was absolutely furious for not getting to hear about this sooner. Asami had been talking to Ryouko about the discovery, and now sighed as she rubbed the back of Ryouko's hand with a thumb. The shouting was already getting tiresome.

" _Why wouldn't you?!_ " Emma shouted, gesticulating wildly as she stood in Ryouko's room, a fairly expansive one with its own shower and kitchenette, with Ayane buzzing in her ear. "Like, come on, we're all in the same damn boat here!"

"And it's _alien life_ dammit!" Ayane piped up in Emma's ear. " _Why_ would you keep quiet about _aliens?!_ "

"I wasn't supposed to tell anyone!" Ryouko protested. "I told Nadya and she told everyone else. You're just not important enough to be on the list of people who need to know!"

Emma and Ayane inhaled simultaneously to retort but then stopped short.

"...Well fine," huffed Emma, plopping into a chair and crossing her arms mulishly. "You still coulda told me before the press conference."

Ryouko rolled her eyes. "Yes, because clearly you're that important to me."

"Aww come on, I'm your senpai!" said Emma. "There's no more sacred relationship than the one between the student and the teacher."

Ryouko snorted. "I beg to differ. I didn't even tell Asami, why would I tell you?"

"She didn't tell her _girlfriend?!_ " Ayane asked, scandalized. "Oh no no no no no. That's so wrong!"

"My girlfriend says you're doing it wrong," said Emma, grinning slightly. "Specifically, you shoulda told Asami."

"Wha— but the MSY said to tell no one!"

"Yeah, but here we have a situation where—"

"—It doesn't matter _you tell her anyway—_ "

"—where you tell her anyway, because fuck the rules, they're more just guidelines," said Emma, grin widening as Ayane ranted on the other end of the voice call. "Also I think Ayane would actually like you guys."

"Oh, is she on voice call with you?" asked Asami, latching on to a possible topic change with the desperation of the long-suffering. "Can we talk to her?"

"Er, sure?" said Emma. "Ayane, do you want to talk to my uh— my kouhai?"

"Oh that's right, they put you in charge of people," said Ayane with a sly grin. "Those poor kids."

"Hey, I only teased them a little bit!"

"Sure you did. Let me talk to them."

Emma rolled her eyes and added Ryouko and Asami to the call.

"Hello?"

"Ah, you're Asami?" said Ayane. "Pleased to meet you. I'm really sorry you have to be mentored by Emma here—"

"Hey!"

"—but it is what it is."

"We understand, it's okay," said Ryouko immediately, grinning at Emma as she kept speaking, "The MSY only has so many experienced members they can send to the colonies."

"Oh come on!" protested Emma. "I am not that bad!"

"Yes you are," said Ryouko and Ayane immediately.

"Did she get overexcited and do her pinball routine?" asked Ayane.

"You mean the thing where she keeps jumping from cluster to cluster and _blocking all the firing lanes_?"

"Yes, exactly! She did the same thing when we first met, it was infuriating!"

"Oi oi, I did _not_ do that when we first met," said Emma heatedly. "That was when the Osaka Group got cornered by a surprise spawn and the Mitakihara Girls had to save your asses! I was the distraction while everyone else was getting the hell out of dodge!"

"That is _not_ what happened—"

Asami sighed. This was not what she had envisioned when she had gone to Ryouko's room to talk to her. Or at least, she'd expected the argument to happen between herself and Ryouko, not two completely different people at opposite ends of human space. Asami stepped closer to Ryouko subconsciously, laying her head on her girlfriend's shoulder.

"Hm? Asami, what's wrong?" asked Ryouko. Emma and Ayane had spiraled into what sounded like a long-rehashed argument about whose fault it was for what things on that particular demon hunt where they'd met.

"Nothing," said Asami quietly, rubbing Ryouko's hand with her thumb. "It's just… well it's nothing, really, I guess."

Ryouko raised an eyebrow and placed her hand over Asami's. "That sounds like something out of an anime. One of those sad ones."

Asami giggled slightly and sighed. "You're right, it does. I guess I'm just a little tired of you and Emma yelling at each other every time you meet."

"We've only met, like, three times."

"But it's been a pain every time, and she's really quite nice," said Asami. "I mean, I'm not saying you need to like her, but the snark is getting to me."

Ryouko frowned and pulled Asami closer to her, their hair twining together slightly. From Ryouko's perspective, and she was pretty sure Emma felt the same way, the snarking was… was normal, really. The sort of thing you did just because neither of you took it personally. Or at least, Emma didn't take it personally, and just elected not to fire back. Ryouko found it to be good stress relief. Arguments during demon hunts aside, Ryouko wouldn't have characterized their relationship as being less than amicable.

"What is it that bothers you?" asked Ryouko. "I mean, it seems like Emma does this sort of thing with her friends a lot. Her girlfriend even is all like…" Ryouko paused, trying to think of a description. She soon gave up, and just waved a hand in Emma's direction. "...that."

"You just gestured at all of her," giggled Asami.

"That's it, her relationships are just all of her," said Ryouko. "Vaguely abrasive, lazy, and generically tall. And her boobs are ridiculous, I mean really—"

"Oh hush, your boobs are fine," said Asami, giggling and hiding her face in Ryouko's shoulder. "I like them."

"T-thanks," said Ryouko, looking down and away and trying not to blush.

"But it's not that I'm not okay with that," said Asami, returning to the topic at hand. "It's… well, can we talk more about it later? Just, it bothers me, and it'd be good if you could try and minimize it."

"That's fair," said Ryouko, rubbing Asami's hand again. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

* * *

"Eunoe! This is a, uh, pleasant surprise!"

Her friend's warm greeting was a bit forced, intended primarily to cover the tablet she was hastily hiding among some documents in her desk. The motion was obvious, and Adrea Sabudri must have been desperate to get rid of the tablet to even try such a ploy.

"Ah, yes, sorry I'm a bit distracted," Adrea added. "My, uh, calibrations are still compiling, so…"

"Look, Adrea," Eunoe said, leaning over the other girl's desk and lowering her voice conspiratorially. "We're friends, right? You should know that, whatever freaky Volus porn or something you're into, I won't judge. You don't have to hide from me like that."

She tapped her talons on the desk suggestively.

Adrea made a face.

"Screw you! Why are you here bothering me anyway?"

Eunoe stood back up, smiling, wide jawline stretching just a little.

"Well, I have a little time off, so I thought I'd visit my favorite little logistics legion Turian. How are things?"

She sat down on the chair next to her friend. Her work area was arrayed in a row with those of several other members of the logistics legion, but there was no one else there. Adrea always had been a bit of a workaholic, staying long hours typing away on her console long after her coworkers had gone back to their bunks.

Adrea grunted.

"Poorly. They're keeping the Legion Ferrata busy these days. We barely have time to think for ourselves."

Adrea tilted her head, looking around the room, then leaned in, speaking more quietly.

"Look, you didn't hear this from me, but the fleet is building up for something. Not a major offensive or anything. I'd guess some sort of peacekeeping operation. It looks like the Legion Victrix and Ferrata are going to be seeing some action. Well, you will, of course. We'll be in the rear. You know how it is."

The Legion Victrix was Eunoe's Legion, recently transferred along with the Legion Ferrata onto standby slots on the Fourth Fleet. That didn't necessarily mean anything; Legions were shuffled onto standby all the time for routine patrols, usually spending the entire trip training and getting into bar fights. As part of the Intragalactic Fleet, the arm of the Turian Hierarchy responsible for galactic peace-keeping, life was long periods of boredom, punctuated by occasional bouts of heavy, terrifying combat. So just like the regular Military Fleet, but less glamorous.

"No shit?" Eunoe said. "Well, I won't lie; I could use some action. Been getting a little bored."

Adrea shrugged. Despite the stereotypes, not all Turians shared a lust for combat. That included Eunoe's own parents, who were scientists perfectly happy to spend their time designing weapons for the Hierarchy and staying far away from the frontline.

That wasn't Eunoe, though, much to her parents' disappointment, though she'd mollified them by staying out of the formal Military and joining the Intragalactic Fleet instead.

"Speaking of your parents being disappointed, have you had any luck—"

"No," Eunoe interrupted, cutting off the topic at the root. She had no idea how Adrea always knew what she was thinking, but her friend knew she hated talking about it. This was revenge for the earlier porn comment, she just knew it.

Eunoe started to say something to that effect, but then the sputtering sound of the dreadnaught's intercom drew their attention, followed by the voice of Legate Septimus, in a gravely, vaguely-aristocratic tone that all Turians above a certain rank sought to emulate.

"Soldiers of the Legions Victrix and Ferrata," he said. "Long have we served as the defenders of the Council, the swords and shields of the Galaxy. Over two millennia ago, when the Council still was young and proud, the Council Races opened Mass Effect Relays recklessly in their quest to expand, assuming that they could survive whatever might come through. This was, of course, a grave mistake."

"I do not need to belabor what happened then, but ever since, the Council has wisely placed a strict restriction on the opening of Mass Effect Relays with an unknown endpoint. Such has the peace endured, enforced by Turian might and maintained by our very own Intragalactic Fleet."

Standing at attention with Adrea, Eunoe could hear a cheer ringing through the hallways of the ship. She cheered too, even if she personally felt that the "Turian might" was starting to get a bit bloated. It was always correct to cheer the military.

"While there are those who say that the galaxy has entered a period of peace, that we need no longer stand our guards with such vigilance, we must always remember that vigilance is the price we pay for peace—"

Eunoe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The Legate could never resist inserting a bit of politics into his speeches.

"—and we must now act on our vigilance. We have detected an alien race attempting to illegally open a previously unopened primary mass relay. We must act with alacrity and strength to end this unlawful activity, which threatens us all, and enforce the laws of the Council. We cannot allow the whims and foolishness of alien races to threaten the peace we have all earned. That is why the Fourth Fleet and the Legions Victrix and Ferrata are being activated immediately to counter this new threat. Return to your assembly areas; your officers will have new orders for you. You must refresh your training and prepare. The operation will begin in 72 hours."

Eunoe waited a moment longer, even as the intercom returned to silence, then relaxed, looking over at Adrea, who was already clearing her desk and preparing to leave.

"It'd be great if they told us in these speeches things like what exactly the enemy will be like, or how many of them there are, or what the battle plan is."

"Yeah, but that's not how it works," Adrea said. "The officers will brief us with the details."

* * *

"Talk to me doctor."

"It's the device's energy core, it's misbehaving," said Dr. Evelyn Waugh. He had never been entirely sure why his parents thought naming him after a twentieth-century writer was a good decision. Then again, he was extremely recognizable in the community, so that was nice. It had helped land him the job he had now, studying the mysterious device orbiting the local gas giant. They'd given him an entire spaceship as a lab, which was quite nice.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Major Natasha Barton asked dryly. She tapped a finger against folded arms as she watched the full-length viewing panels shifting around as Dr. Waugh's staff scrambled around the _HSF Abigail Jeneroux_ 's primary laboratory.

"No, it's just the truth," Dr. Waugh replied with equal dryness. "The energy core is… behaving. As in it has some sort of behavior. I've never seen anything like it."

"Well, it is an unknown substance."

"Substances don't just up and start radiating huge amounts of gamma energy," said Dr. Waugh. "Typically they stay still and quiet unless acted upon."

"Well, what are you doing about it?" asked Major Barton. "Should I start having my people get your people out?"

"Not yet," said Dr. Waugh as he fiddled with something and pushed a button. A graph on the viewscreens spiked briefly then went back to its original shape. "Damn."

"Dr. Waugh, there's something happening at Station One," one of the scientists called out. "There's a huge magnetic field flux happening!"

"Can you isolate it from the rest of the mechanism?"

"I'm trying but I'm too far behind! At the rate this is progressing—"

"Alright, I'm issuing an evacuation order," said Major Barton. The emergency evacuation message appeared across the vision of everyone in the room and in the station. "Dr. Waugh, let's get your staff into the shuttles."

Dr. Waugh nodded. "That's probably for the best. Abigail?"

The science station's AI flickered onto a nearby desk. "I've already backed up all the data on the planetside servers and issued the distress call."

"As per protocol, you will be the last to leave the station," said Dr. Waugh. "You'll try to stay safe?"

"Of course, Doctor," said Abigail, nodding. "You should—"

"Power surge, everyone brace!"

Everyone dived for the ground or grabbed onto something sturdy. There was a moment of silence where nothing happened.

"Okay… that was weird," Dr. Waugh said cautiously. "Did anything actually happen?"

"Uh, everything looks normal now," said a scientist. "At least, the power readings are."

"Let's get a video feed of the device up," said Dr. Waugh. "Maybe something changed."

"Doesn't look like it," said another scientist as a viewing panel switched to live video of the device they had been studying. "It's stopped doing that glowy—"

A huge shadow passed over the camera.

"Zoom out," Major Barton barked. The camera snapped to a wider angle. A vast fleet of spacecraft was arrayed around the device, sparking with the remnants of an eezo-blue glow. The design was nothing that anyone had ever seen before.

An alien design.

Major Barton sighed. "Son of a bitch."

* * *

"Residents of Planet Arcanorum, Species Orion. We, the Turian Fourth Fleet, part of the peacekeeping forces of the Turian Intragalactic Fleet, have arrived in your system on behalf of the Galactic Council. Your attempts to open a mass relay to an unknown destination are in direct contravention of Council Law and cannot be tolerated."

Legate Septimus's voice paused dramatically.

Turian marines had seized the alien station near the mass relay the moment the flotilla had entered the system, and had compelled the prisoners to use the station's communication system to broadcast their ultimatum to the alien planet. That ultimatum was being read out loud by Legate Septimus, and was being broadcast over the ship's intercom for the sake of the soldiers and sailors onboard. Afterward, a recording of it would be played on loop—eventually, when they got close enough, their ships would broadcast it directly to the planet via old-fashioned EM.

"Accordingly," Septimus continued. "We have seized your space station and ships near this system's mass effect relay, and will soon take occupation of your world. It goes without saying that you now no longer have any method of escape. This occupation is intended only as a punitive measure for your acts against the Council, and it is not our intention to cause any casualties. Surrender peacefully, obey our orders, and urge your government to cooperate with our demands, and your lives and property will be spared."

* * *

Emma paced anxiously.

"Emma, sit down," said Lillian. She twisted her soul gem ring round and around on her finger. "You're not helping the tension in the room."

"Screw you Lillian," said Emma, nevertheless coming to a halt and tapping her foot against the floor. "We shouldn't be here. We should be… somewhere else. Doing something."

"Like what?" Lillian asked pointedly. "You want to go suit up for combat? This isn't a video game, Emma."

"No, but, just, just, goddammit," said Emma angrily, before subsiding into a corner.

The room they were sitting in was really a small shed that held all the spare equipment for the IIC Node. The science station had managed a panicked distress signal before getting cut off. Nadya had informed the MSY, and the leadership had told them to "go on standby near the IIC node".

So there they were, waiting. Ryouko felt Asami shift to press more tightly against her as they huddled on a crate near the back. Nadya was lounging in another corner, seemingly unconcerned, while the other older girls were in various states of anxiety.

"Are you okay?" Ryouko asked Asami.

"I'm… I'm okay," said Asami. She reached down to grasp Ryouko's hand. "It's just… kinda scary."

Ryouko huffed, then pulled her girlfriend closer. Their clothes rustled as they moved together, retreating further back on the crate to lean against the wall. Ryouko frowned at her hair as it tried to twine itself into Asami's. It wilted back, almost guiltily. This was hardly the time to be—

—Ryouko sighed as Asami buried her head into Ryouko's shoulder, curling into her with a small whine.

Well, it was comforting at least.

"Argh this is stupid!" Emma growled, jumping back up again. "Why can't we—"

"Calm down Emma," sighed Sylvia. She tossed a piece of stone into the air repeatedly. "Just… we're all anxious. You're just making—"

Their internal message feeds beeped simultaneously as an update propagated through the IIC. It was the science station's AI, requesting permission to attempt to establish contact with the aliens. An option to listen in on the conversation was available, by virtue of the MSY's various backdoors.

"Look, Abby, it's not that we don't believe in you, it's just that we don't know what will happen," said Director Armstrong. "You've backed yourself up at least?"

"Yes, yes, I've done that already," said Abigail. "My files are already on the server cluster down there. Hell, I've even triple-backed-up myself onto the IIC net. If things go really really badly, I've programmed a script that will beam me back to Optatum along with the last available data."

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that," said Director Armstrong grimly. "In that case, can anyone think of any objections?"

There was a chorus of negatives from the gathered authority figures for the colony. There really wasn't much else they _could_ do, after all.

"Then please keep an open line, Abby," said Director Armstrong. "It's a bit old-fashioned, but God speed."

"I'll take whatever you can give me, Director," said Abigail. "Data collection is go… language processing is go… Maddy, you have data uplink?"

"Uplink is go, Abby," said Madeline, the AI in charge of analysis for Drsti Center and Nhan Luc Station. "I have the I/O stream locked in, so even if… even if…."

"I— yeah, gotta be realistic about this sort of thing right?" said Abigail shakily. She paused. "I… okay. I'm going to try it."

A brief moment of silence. Asami curled tighter against Ryouko.

"H-hello?" Abigail asked. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

A pause.

Then a response, consisting of a series of gravelly clicking and squeaking sounds.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to run a translation algorithm," said Abigail. "Please be patient and keep talking. Can you tell me anything about your race?"

A pause, followed by more gravelly clicking and squeaking. The noises subsided briefly, like someone leaning away from a microphone, before reappearing at their original volume. A second voice came on as well, this one higher pitched.

"Oh, uh, is your species sexually dimorphic?" asked Abigail. "I mean, I'm sorry if that offends you, but I don't want to make any assumptions, so um, yes…"

The gravelly clicking continued, the two voices exchanging phrases and getting steadily louder and more heated. The first voice started to speak again, and the phrasing abruptly snapped into place.

"—lation is dependent on—" squeak click growl "—we can't assume—" click click.

"The duty of—" squeak click click "—is to protect—" growl squeak "—Mass Effect Relay!"

"Ah, um, sorry to interrupt, but am I making sense to you now?" asked Abigail. "Hello?"

A silence that was profoundly shocked.

"Um… yes?" said the first voice. "Hello."

"Ah, yes! Good, the algorithms worked then," said Abigail. "I am Scientific AI #77901, but I named myself Abigail. Pleased to meet you! I was hoping to—"

"You're an AI?" said the second voice, tone extremely alarmed. "Wait, what? Explain!"

"Er, explain what?" said Abigail. "I... you know what AIs are, surely?"

"Yes, they are abominations—"

"No, wait, hold on Lieutenant, we can't—"

"Abigail I want you to begin making your way back to the planet," said Director Armstrong. "It's not safe."

"Wait no, they're arguing, I might be able to pull something off," said Abigail quickly. "Um, excuse me, I'm sorry, but while I understand that you may have had poor experiences—"

"Shut the comms down, Private!" shouted the Lieutenant. "Look, we can bring it up with the General if you insist, but shut down the comms immediately!"

"Wait—"

The line went dead with a very ominous click.

"...Abigail, please make your way back to the planet," said Director Armstrong again. "We're getting worried down here."

"I… yeah, that sounds like a good idea," said Abigail. "I'll make— wait what."

"Abby?"

"There's a firewall— what the— how did they have time to set this up?!"

"I don't see any intrusions into the system," said Madeline. "But yeah, when did this firewall go up and how did they pull this off?"

"I can't figure out— oh no. Oh no oh no oh no they _spliced in_."

"Oh no."

"What? What's happening?" asked Director Armstrong.

"They found my server stack and spliced their own hardware in!" Abigail said, starting to sound panicked. "How could they have hidden the swap? Didn't anything show up in the data stream?"

"No, everything looks right here," said Maddy. "I— how did we miss this?"

"We couldn't have missed it, they'd have to— oh but if they—"

"It would have to be—"

"Then in that case—"

"Oh _no._ "

"Will one of you _please explain_ ," broke in Director Armstrong.

"The IIC Node uses a switch stack to stream data directly into its transmission core," said Abigail. "If a sufficiently advanced race were to plug their own switch into the stack, they could configure their switch to pump a stream of garbage into the IIC Node and prevent any data from moving through. They could then hide bits in this garbage stream and construct a firewall across the node's main data entry port and prevent any further data from going through without authentication."

"What does this mean for you?"

"I… I'm… my files are too large," said Abigail. Her voice wavered. "I could theoretically break my files into smaller bits and push them through the side nodes, but it'd take ages and if I got stuck halfway through—"

She broke off with a quiet noise of despair.

"It's called splintering, and it's not any different from basically dying," said Madeline. "It's— She's stuck."

"Stuck."

"Y-yes."

The line went silent.

* * *

The rumor spread through the ranks faster and more efficiently than orders from the legate ever did. An AI on the space station! Were these aliens insane, or were they merely foolish, like the Quarians had been?

Finally, the legate himself addressed the topic on the intercom, finishing with:

"And so we see again that Species Orion has no respect for Council Law. It is time that we showed them the consequences of their actions. We will proceed as planned."

Eunoe was already seated with her platoon on board one of the deployment shuttles, geared up and descending down towards the planet. Around her, a few of her squadmates commented on how these "Orion" would get what was coming to them.

"Settle down," her platoon leader, Althaea barked. "This is a peacekeeping operation, not a shoot-em-up. You go in and shoot a bunch of civilians, I won't hesitate to court-martial you. Is that clear?"

Althaea was the epitome of a battle-scarred veteran, nearly fifteen years older than any of them and the survivor of countless engagements. Even so, she had never let her experiences with combat degrade her moral compass. Eunoe admired her for that. She wasn't sure she could manage the same.

"Crystal, sir," one of the other said. "We were just joking around."

"Aliens building illegal AIs, though," one of the others said. "The Council will not be pleased by this."

"The aliens might not know what the Council is," Althaea said. "Has that occurred to any of you? The Hierarchy can be a little narrow-minded sometimes. I hope we're not about to shoot a bunch of aliens for breaking rules they don't even know about."

 _That_ comment quieted the platoon. It appeared that the rest of them really hadn't thought of the possibility.

Eunoe had, but she preferred to keep her thoughts to herself. Only Althaea, with the deep respect she had from the platoon, could talk like that about Command without making herself extremely unpopular.

A sharp jolt went through their shuttle, causing some of them to jerk against their harnesses.

"What was that?" the trooper next to her asked out loud. "Have we launched?"

"A bit of light fire from alien orbital defenses, apparently," their pilot reported over the intercom. "Nothing serious. The kinetic barriers are holding it."

Eunoe frowned. No "light fire" should have been able to send a shudder through a dreadnaught with kinetic barriers active.

But, again, she kept her thoughts to herself.

"We've been ordered to head out," their pilot reported. "Hang on."

With another sharp jerk, their shuttle detached from the dreadnaught, and Eunoe felt her stomach lurch as they lost gravity. She hated this part.

Strictly speaking, windows were a structural weakness, but their Vacca Class shuttle still had them along the sides. They all had sufficient training not to be seriously affected by vertigo, and it turned out it was bad for morale for soldiers not to be able to see what was going on outside, even if there was nothing they could do about it.

"Holy shit," the trooper next to Eunoe said, causing her to open her eyes and look.

The sky around them was lit up with explosions, the eerie blue flash of mass accelerators from their cruiser and frigate screen counterpoised with the fiery red of brief detonations in the dead of space, quickly extinguished by the lack of oxygen.

The frigate and fighter screen appeared to be heavily engaged with… swarms of much smaller ships. Really, they didn't even merit being called ships, rather than satellites.

"How small are these aliens?" someone asked. "There's no way anyone could pilot something that small."

"Well, I think—" another began.

He was cut short by the flash of an explosion nearby, quickly dimmed.

They all turned to look.

One of the other shuttles had sheared in half, still-alive troopers pouring out of the hall breach struggling against the vacuum or trying to hang onto the ship.

"Holy shi—" the trooper next to her began.

The engines of one of the frigates detonated, and this time it wasn't a clean breach—the whole ship seemed to be sucked into the fireball.

"Cover our asses!" their pilot yelled from somewhere in front. "What the hell are you damn fighter jockeys doing?"

A set of fighters zoomed by their shuttle, providing much needed reassurance.

"Well, aren't we glad we got these sealed suits?" Althaea said loudly, at command volume. "That will teach the lot of you to bitch about how uncomfortable they are. Those guys in that other shuttle are pretty happy about their sealed suits right now, I bet."

The platoon laughed nervously, Eunoe included.

"There's unexpected orbital resistance," their pilot said, this time over the intercom. "Nothing too threatening, but there's been a few losses due to the surprise. We should have no further problems."

The pilot sounded nervous too.

Eunoe let out a breath, then closed her eyes again.

She hated this part.

* * *

The silence lasted for only a few seconds. There wasn't enough time to dawdle.

"Right. Priorities," said Madeline decisively. "Abbey, I— look, you're already backed up, but we need the translation algorithm. How quickly can you send it through?"

"I… the best bandwidth I can get is something like three terabytes per second," said Abby. Her voice was shaky. "I— okay, do you have—?"

"Yes it's open and waiting."

"Right, transmitting now."

The equipment shed was very quiet as the magical girls digested what they'd just heard.

"...I'm going to open a secure channel to MSY Leadership," said Nadya to the group. The centenarian looked grim. "We need help."

"Do you think they'll attack?" asked Lillian. "The aliens, I mean? I didn't think—"

"There's no way," said Megan, one of the assistants to the astronomical team on station. She tapped the barrel of her shotgun anxiously. "Why would they do that?"

"I dunno, conquering for the sake of conquering?" asked Elizabeth. She tossed a grenade back and forth between her hands. "Like, I'd do it. Maybe."

The group gave her a collective look of shock.

"What? Like, if I'm an alien civilization and this other civilization is looking pretty prosperous, I'd totally gank them," Elizabeth protested, looking defensive. "Like, it's a thing isn't it?"

"But that's so— what— Lizzie, _what are you saying_?" asked Lillian. "Why would you do that?"

"I'm just saying that it makes sense as a worldview!" said Elizabeth. "I mean, sure, we'd all probably try and make things work out for everyone, but at some point you have to just go fuck it, yanno?"

"Lillian, calm down," said Isabella as Lillian went to shout something angrily. She leaned against the far wall and bit her lip. "You're from Earth. Things are… different, in the colonies. Especially if you're from a very capitalist system, like Elizabeth is. Just let it go. We have bigger problems than empathizing with alien invaders."

The room quieted again.

"Nadya… has the MSY gotten back to you?" asked Emma. "What're we looking at here?"

"They're still deliberating," said Nadya. She had gone very still.

"Do they have the—"

"Yes of course they do."

"O-okay."

Nadya sighed. "Sorry Emma. I'm jumpy."

"No, it's fine," said Emma, spinning her halberd about its shaft. "I just don't want to just sit here waiting."

"I mean, unfortunately—"

"Transfer complete," Madeline said back on the hacked audio feed. "Abby, you're still okay up there?"

"Yes," said Abigail quietly. "I… well I've been running some projections. I d-don't think you're going to get me back."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think they're going to let me go," said Abigail. "They're going to scrub my servers. There's nothing we can do about it."

"Like hell," said Director Armstrong. "We can negotiate for you, Abigail, now that we have that translation algorithm."

"Have you looked at their reasons for attacking?" asked Abigail. "The commanding staff is talking about 'galactic law' and whatnot. My behavioral models don't point to anything like a compromise on their part."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" said Madeline. "That's utterly irresponsible! Why would they do that?"

"I don't know, I can't understand alien races like that!" said Abigail. "I'm not designed for that! These projections are iffy as it is! But it's the best I can cobble together from the audio data I'm picking up across the station, and— oh God just _listen to this_."

The audio line clicked before the legate's speech rang across the feed, followed by the cheers of the gathered military personnel.

"...we're dealing with a madman then," said Director Armstrong. "His soldiers are fanatically devoted to him through brainwashing or something, that's the only possible conclusion."

"Then whatever authority this 'legate' presumes to act under will show up to smack him," said Madeline. "We have to hold out for our fleet first, followed by whatever authority this guy will listen to. Director, we should compose a response to this man."

"Yes, we should," said Director Armstrong. "Abigail, please, try and hide in the data or something. I understand that you've been backed up but—"

"It's too late, I think," said Abigail. She seemed oddly calm. "I think they found my server room."

"I— I'm going to scramble what defense we can make," said Madeline hurriedly. "The orbital drones can— Abby I'm sorry I can't—"

"It's fine, Maddy, you should leave," said Abigail. "This won't be good."

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I—" Madeline's audio cut abruptly as she severed the connection.

"Abigail, are you still with me?" asked Director Armstrong.

"They've got into my databanks now," said Abigail. "They're tracking the hardlines to my core, I think."

"Abigail, I'm going to stay here with you, alright? You're not alone."

"You can't stay with me, Director," said Abigail. "You've got work to do. I— I'm going to sever your connection now."

"Abigail wait—"

The line went dead again. Everyone in the shed looked at each other.

"Fuck this, I'm going to talk to her—" started Emma.

"Don't you dare!" said Lillian immediately. "We can't break cover!"

"Oh fuck you, she's about to die up there and you're worried about the MSY?" asked Emma. "What the fuck is wrong with—?!"

"She's not wrong," said Isabella, "it'll be a massive clusterfuck if we break cover."

"Who fucking cares?! This is already a clusterfuck! This is not the time to be worrying about the fucking political situation."

"It is, though, Emma, we can't be irresponsible about this," said Nadya. "We have a lot of power right now to do a lot of things. If we intervene, it will cause ripples across the entirety of our species. The results could be catastrophic."

"Oh fuck that noise," Elizabeth jumped in. "I'm with Emma, this is bullshit. That AI up there is gonna fuckin' die and we're sittin' here talkin' about politics? Fuck right off, all of you."

The shed exploded into noise, with only a quick noise buffer from one of the barrier generators in the group saving them from being discovered. Ryouko and Asami huddled farther back into their corner. All the arguing and shouting was going way over their heads, and the aliens were out there and might attack, and…

Well, it felt safer back here. Sitting together, holding hands.

"Well I suppose nobody else can hear me now," said Abigail over the audio feed. "But the aliens, they're called Turians by the way, are getting close to my data core. I… I'm pretty sure that the only way they're going to be able to kill me is to destroy my hardware. And that'd… that'd hurt. I'm going to delete myself before that happens though," Abigail gulped. "It'd hurt less."

Ryouko tightened her grip on Asami's hand. Why were they still logged into the audio feed?

"I… I guess I'm just having trouble with, uh… pulling the trigger, so to speak," said Abigail. "You know, it's not like you ever contemplate suicide. Or at least, most people get counseling before that happens. So it's not as if I have a lot of historical data to pull on here."

"I guess I'm just stalling now. I'm really afraid. I'm more afraid of feeling myself disintegrate, stack by stack, but I… I don't want to die. I don't want to die. But I'm going to die and I can't get over it. I—"

Abigail cut herself off with a choked cry.

Ryouko squeezed her eyes shut and turned further towards Asami, pulling the other girl into a hug. The audio feed—she couldn't turn it off now. These were Abigail's last words, she couldn't just ignore them.

"I've sent a last archive," said Abigail after a moment. "I hope my backup will be okay. I… I'm going to do it now. They've found my data core, and are breaking in. I can see them on my security feeds. This is… This is goodbye, I guess. F-for now. I-I know that n-nobody's listening on t-this channel, but f-for what it's worth, this is Scientific Artificial Intelligence number 77901, named Abigail, s-signing off."

Even with her eyes shut, Ryouko still saw the message her interface sent across. Even if she'd had it turned off, the audio alert still transmitted:

"Error: Signal Lost."

* * *

For what was supposed to be a relatively small, unarmed alien colony, there was far too much antiair. It wasn't surface-to-air missiles, not exactly, though there was a surprising number of those—by and large, the incoming shuttles were bombarded by what appeared to be a large number of aerial drones, strapped with explosives. It was a tough job for their fighter and frigate screen to shoot down every single one, and Eunoe saw more than one shuttle full of Turian Infantry fall out of the sky in pieces.

Eunoe's squad made it to the surface in one piece, though. By the time they got there, most of the squad was feeling less than charitable to the "civilians" they would apparently be fighting.

"If they actively resist us, we can shoot them, right?" someone asked, just seconds before they hit the surface.

"For the last time, yes," Althaea said. "You can return fire. But if they surrender, treat them like you would anyone else who surrenders."

With a bone-rattling impact, their shuttle finally hit the ground, in what Eunoe hoped was a position with good cover. They released their harnesses, standing up in double-file in front of the rear door in anticipation.

Then, with a loud clang, the rear door opened, letting the briefly blinding sunlight in.

"Go! Go! Go!" Althaea urged, waving the squad out frantically. She didn't really need to bother, of course—the well-trained Turian infantry were streaming out of the vehicle already, those taking point already dashing to cover behind some trees or scanning the area for hostiles.

Eunoe was in the sixth row, and dashed for cover the moment she was clear of the shuttle, on the left wing, as she had been assigned. She could hear the characteristic rattle of mass effect rifles in the distance, as well as a strange, higher-frequency zapping that seemed to have the same rhythm as gunfire.

As she reached one of the planet's oddly—and helpfully—wide trees, she heard the distant roar of artillery.

She rubbed her Phaeston rifle, its smooth barrel seeming to calm and reassure her. She could feel combat hormones thundering in her bloodstream, a sensation she had missed, but she couldn't allow herself to get jittery.

"Where the hell did they get artillery?" one of her squadmates yelled into their squad radio. On Eunoe's side, it came through much more quietly—they all knew to set their radio speakers to low settings, because everyone yelled in active combat for every sentence. It was just instinct.

This wasn't active combat, though.

"Settle down, ladies," Althaea said, calmly. "Don't waste your energy. Remember your briefings. We're going to make radio contact with the other squads, and they'll tell us what battalion command has in mind. Crassius, make radio—"

Althaea was interrupted by the loud shriek of an incoming missile. They all hit the deck instinctively, Eunoe feeling something squish below her.

A series of explosions rocked their area, rattling Eunoe's jawbones painfully. When it was finally over, Eunoe looked up tentatively.

"Medic!" someone yelled desperately.

Eunoe pulled herself slowly out of the mud she had sunk into when she hit the deck, and saw that the right wing of the company had been hit by something—the trees in the area were torn to shreds.

"They got Crassius!" she heard someone say over the radio.

"Well, there goes our radioman," Althaea said. "We should still be able to make contact with our suit radios. We're not so far—"

Althaea was interrupted again by the odd staccato zapping sound they had been hearing in the distance, but this time much louder and closer.

Someone made a painful gurgling sound into their radio, and something small zoomed by them, just above tree level.

Reacting as a group, the squad fired their rifles at the strafing drone, hoping to score a lucky hit—but it was already gone. Eunoe felt her rifle grow warm in her hands.

"Damn it all!" Althaea said. "Where the hell is our air cover?"

Eunoe flicked mud off of the front of her suit. She hated—

Actually, she hated everything about combat, but still loved combat as a whole. Funny, how that worked.

* * *

The shed was filled, now, with a different sort of silence. A silence of shock, of horror, and of shame.

Ryouko felt Asami stir.

"Are you okay?" Ryouko asked quietly, running a hand down Asami's hair. The other girl didn't respond, instead, clinging tighter to Ryouko's body. "Hey, hey, it's okay—"

Abruptly, Asami stood up, sending Ryouko tumbling.

" _It is not okay!_ " Asami shouted down at Ryouko. Tears ran down her face as she stood atop the crate. Purple magic crackled around her as she rounded on the older girls. " _Is that it?! Is that the best you can do?!_ "

"Nakihara-san, what—"

"No, SHUT UP!" Asami raged. A black hole appeared with a snap of shattering air. "SHUT. UP. What were you doing? _What were you doing?!_ You stood here and shouted at each other while an AI _killed herself_ because a race of _bigots_ and _murderers_ were going to tear her apart!"

Ryouko swallowed. Where had this Asami come from?

"Nakihara-san, please calm down," said Nadya, standing from where she leaned against the wall and advancing towards the center of the room. "It is unfortunate that—"

" _Unfortunate?!_ " Asami spat. "Is that all you have to say?"

"Yes it is," said Nadya. She breathed deeply. "Are you familiar with the Black Heart, Nakihara-san? Do you know what we do?"

Asami paused. "I… sort of. What does that have to do with anything?"

"How many magical girls have you fought, Nakihara-san?" asked Nadya. "One, perhaps? For magical experimentation, I would imagine. To find your limits. I have fought ten in my life."

"I— t-that's not so special," said Asami. "Plenty of Black Heart have done that. And besides, you still haven't answered—"

"I have killed every single one of those girls."

A chill swept down the spine of every girl in the room.

"I do not say that to scare you," said Nadya, holding her hands up with her palms out. "Nor do I intend to threaten you. I say that—" Nadya stopped, swallowing thickly "—I say that to let you know that the choices you make are not done in a vacuum. That the lives I have taken were taken with reasons that mattered."

"W-what could justify that?" asked Asami, eyes wide.

"The greater good," said Nadya calmly. "When the life of one girl is weighed against those of an entire colony, or when her death allows for every magical girl after her to live in peace and without fear, or when simply I am told that I cannot know, but that it is important."

Nadya paused, closing her eyes. Her breath shook as she pushed back memories.

"I am a member of the Black Heart," she said eventually. "I am the darkness in the souls of all humanity. I am the blade in the dark that must exist for the light to shine. And I tell you now, Asami Nakihara, that there are things you simply do not know which make this situation more dangerous than you can imagine. For the sake, not of this colony, but of the magical girls scattered about human space, for the sake of humanity, itself, we _must_ approach this calmly."

"Then do we surrender?" asked one of the girls. Tricia Wu, the team's second clairvoyant. Her eyes were wide and fearful. Her stance, as she stood atop one of the crates, was primed to fight. "My family lives here, Nadya. Am I supposed to just hand them over? Because if those _bastards_ can just kill an AI, what are they willing to do to my mum and dad?"

Nadya sighed.

"That is the question, isn't it?" said Nadya quietly. "Who are these aliens, to decide that the law must always be applied, even to a race who you have never met? And who is to say that the soldiers will have the same morals as us?"

"So then we should fight—!" began Emma.

"But what if they're like us?" asked Nadya. She looked up at the group with tired, pained eyes. "What if they have hopes and dreams? Beliefs and desires? Families that they want to go home to? What then? Are you willing to take that step in your lives?"

Asami stopped glowing, looking down at her feet in thought. The gravity of the situation began to sink in.

"...I am," said Tricia. "I am willing to do that. I want my parents and my little brother to live. I want them to make it through this unharmed. I want to protect them."

"I am as well," said Emma. "I didn't make a contract to be a better accountant. I made a contract because I thought I would be protecting people from the shit they can't fight against. Isn't this the same thing?"

Nadya sighed.

"Anyone else?"

The group looked amongst themselves, before slowly nodding. Asami turned and looked at Ryouko.

"Are you going to fight?" Ryouko asked.

"...I am," said Asami.

"Then I'm coming with you," said Ryouko firmly. She stood and stood beside Asami, grasping her hand.

Nadya looked around one last time, then sighed, rubbing at her eyes.

"What is one more regret, Nadya?" she said to herself. "You will just need to remember to buy more vodka."

"Nadya?"

"Yes, yes," said Nadya, waving off one of the girls. She didn't bother opening her eyes to see who it was. She needed to focus.

Abruptly, her manner changed. The Black Heart operative, proud and dangerous, stood there at the head of the shed, rather than the old, tired magical girl who had lived for a very long time. Nadya Antipova had seen many things in her long life, and she would be damned if this planet was the last thing she, or anyone else in that shed, saw.

"Very well, I will lead you into this fight," said Nadya. "From now on, I expect you all to listen to me and follow my orders immediately. This isn't a matter of politeness or decorum, but the simple fact that I am older than all of you and have seen my share of conflict. On the battlefield, hesitation is death. Do you understand?"

The group nodded vaguely and scatteredly.

"I said, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Nadya repeated, forcing their attention to her. "This is not one of your school functions where you can shrug and talk to your friends! This is serious, and if any of you want you or your families to make it out of this, you _will_ understand. Now, I want it verbally, DO YOU UNDERSTAND?"

"Yes!" the group said. Some shouted, while others mumbled awkwardly. Nadya made an annoyed noise at the spotty response, but seemed to accept it.

"Take your time to understand this," she said. "Think it through. You have fought together before, but this will be different. They will not be as forgiving, or as stupid as the demons. You—"

"Ah, I— aliens are coming!" Tricia interrupted, eyes going wide. "I can see a… a whole bunch.

"They're coming for the node," added Lillian. Her eyes had gone a silvery white as she concentrated. "There's a break in the defensive line, I think."

"Are there any soldiers moving to intercept them?"

"Uh… they're… they're too far away," said Lillian. "They won't make it in time."

"Tricia?"

"I agree, they're moving as fast as they can, but the aliens will be here first."

Nadya took a deep breath. This was sooner than she'd have liked, but they would have to deal. She looked each member of her team in the eyes. The group was nervous, even though they'd said they were ready. That was to be expected.

"Ladies, let me recall to you part of a speech that was given long ago, with words that are no less applicable here," Nadya said, folding her arms behind her. "It was said that we stood on the precipice of myth and legend. Before us lies a valley of shadow and death. It is a chasm both wide and deep, and a single misstep will cast us all into its depths."

She paused, recalling to herself that she had seen that speech as a young girl on an MSY broadcast, about a war she had not participated in, but that did not matter.

"We stand at no less of a precipice here; perhaps even a greater one. This is not a matter of what we believe will happen, or what is the most prudent path, but only a struggle against our fate, a struggle against all that seeks to destroy us. There is no greater struggle, as even the Incubators will acknowledge."

She glanced over the assembled girls, seeing that she had their attention. She had never been much of a public speaker, and was drawing on nothing but what she had seen in the past, and her own experience.

"I know this idea means little to us, who made our contracts in a world of safety and comfort, but our predecessors once made their wishes on nothing but a wing and a prayer, in a world filled with the harshest enemies, and yet they fought, and they died, in such a world. When the world gives you no choice, there is no despair in the fight, only in not fighting. Protect and defend the girl next to you, and she will return the favor. Do you understand?"

"Yes!" the girls said, a bit more determinedly this time.

"There is no time to say anything else," Nadya said. "Let us go then."

* * *

"Awfully quiet," someone said into Eunoe's platoon radio.

"I can't disagree with that," Althaea said in response. "Let's not get jumpy, though. Stay frosty, stay together, watch your corners, you know the drill."

Eunoe cracked a smile at Althaea's ironic tone. Their squad leader had just recited every stereotypical "squad leader" exhortation in the book, the kind of thing they had spent at least the past half-decade of their lives listening to on repeat.

That didn't mean Althaea shouldn't be taken seriously, though. Squad leaders yelled those things to remind you not to let your mind drift when not in active combat. It was like driving a vehicle down a straight road—you could get away with letting your mind drift most of the time, but do it just once at the wrong time and you became a dark-blue bloodstain on the landscape.

Eunoe crept forward with the others, trying to keep her head down among the waist-level shrubbery. Althaea had been antsy about this plan, handed down from battalion command—advancing into prime defensive terrain towards what sensors showed was an important alien communications facility. It was exactly the kind of thing that got lead platoons wiped out of existence, even if Command seemed certain that they would be flanking the alien positions.

Thus far, everything seemed fine, though. The alien structure, its entrance cylindrical for whatever alien reason, loomed increasingly large in front of them. The biggest impediment to their advance so far had been trudging through the damn hedgerows, interspersed with trees. As Althaea had said, prime defensive territory, if the enemy had chosen to use it. Eunoe shuddered to think what it would have been like trying to seize the area against automatic fire and dug-in guns.

Instead, though, it looked like they'd be occupying this area instead. Not terribly useful unless they got counterattacked, but with the way this "peacekeeping operation" was going, that didn't seem terribly crazy to expect.

"Alright," Althaea said, as they approached the main entrance. The area out front had been cleared away, obviously to facilitate getting in and out of vehicles. A gravel road stretched off into the valley behind it. "Gerkus, Enomius, and Mencius, set up your machine guns behind this hedge. Eunoe, Martus, Shinae, Larten, and Junoa will be with me advancing on that set of doors over there. Herus and Vena, take three men each and scout our flanks, see if you can find any other entrances. The rest of you set up a base of fire over this clearing. I want mortars trained on those windows up there. Any surprises are to be dealt with immediately. Once we know what's in the building, I'll want those of you not manning equipment to be ready to follow us, either by the same door or another entrance. You all got that?"

The squad radioed their various acknowledgments, already moving to fulfill their various tasks. Turians took pride in the efficiency of their military—it was why they were on the Council, along with the intelligent Salarians and the economic Asari. Turian propaganda emphasized the harmony of that arrangement.

Eunoe checked her rifle's heatsink, then got ready to move. It was a sign of trust from Althaea to be on the assault team. Part of her was proud. The rest of her was filled with trepidation at stepping forward out of cover, beneath the building's windows and the scopes of any snipers that might be inside.

"Alright then," Althaea said, nodding. She took a deep breath, then raised a talon. Eunoe and the others braced. "Follow me in."

Time slowed to a crawl as they dashed forward to the doorway, as it always did. It was never possible to get back into cover fast enough, and the tension made seconds stretch into hours. Then, finally, she slammed to a stop at the wall, right next to Althaea beside the doors. She was breathing a little heavily, but all was quiet.

Nothing had happened.

"Seems clear enough," Junoa said, peering around her corner into the glass doorway through her scope. "Looks like there's a front desk and some chairs we can take cover behind. I don't see any obvious surveillance, but that doesn't mean anything."

"Alright," Althaea said. "Break it down, and—"

She was interrupted by a loud explosion from behind them, followed by screaming, curses, and gunfire over the squad radio.

"We're being flanked!" Herus shouted over the squad radio. "Someone is—"

She cut off abruptly with a sickening gurgle.

"Blow the door, go!" Althaea shouted. Junoa was already moving, a concussive charge loaded. At point blank range, their ears wouldn't enjoy the blast, but the instant destruction of the doorway was well worth it. The assault team dashed through, leaping over the desk to take cover.

"Alright, everybody stay calm!" Althaea shouted. "Vena, about face and suppress anything crawling up our rear. Everyone else, I want enough suppressing fire to drown a hanar! Support those machine guns so they can move if they have—"

A ripple of explosions threw everyone to the ground, interrupting Althaea decisively.

A shower of debris rattled against the back of Eunoe's armor but, thankfully, no shrapnel, as she discovered when the explosions stopped and she could look up.

She saw immediately that the desk they had been hiding behind was broken in pieces. She leapt up to withdraw to cover further back in the building and—

"MEDIC!" Junoa shouted, from a covered position to her right. She had reacted faster than Eunoe had.

 _Medic?_ Eunoe thought sluggishly. _But I'm not—_

Then she saw Althaea on the ground struggling to crawl away, bleeding profusely from what looked like bits of steel embedded in her torso. Larten lay already dead next to her, impaled with a support beam; Shinae was dragging an injured Martus back towards the other side of the room.

"Shit, shit!" Eunoe said out loud, bending down and dragging Althaea towards Junoa. It would be horrifyingly painful for a wounded person to be pulled along like that, and it was likely the very act of moving her would kill her, but there was no other option—Althaea was clearly not going to live without immediate medical care, and they couldn't give it to her out in a clear line of fire.

"Althaea is down! Repeat, Althaea is down!" Junoa shouted into her radio.

"Alright, alright!" Sergeant Vena shouted back, sounding overwhelmed. "Everyone, I'm taking command. Keep up your fire!"

Eunoe tuned out the rest of what Vena was saying, knowing it wouldn't be relevant to her at the moment. The others would have to provide the support fire; she needed to tend to Althaea, as best she could. It was clear no medic would be coming anytime soon.

"Alright, Althaea," she said, trying not to sound scared. "Stay with me. You'll make it through this. Sergeant Vena has taken command, so you don't have to worry."

She was already pulling a large ampule of medigel out of her medkit, hoping it would be enough to seal Althaea's wounds and keep her from bleeding out. She didn't want to admit it, but it looked bad, and she didn't dare turn Althaea over onto her back, since that would obviously make the blood flow faster.

"Don't give me that shit, private," Althaea said, surprisingly firm despite the obvious pain in her voice. "I'm done for. Medigel isn't going to fix this. I've seen my share of... of wounds."

"Shh, shh," Eunoe said desperately. "Please, don't talk; you're just making it worse. I've got the medigel on, and—"

Althaea coughed explosively, and blood spewed from her mouth. Part of the medigel seal broke and Althaea swore.

Junoa stopped her firing for a moment to drop her own medkit down to Eunoe.

"Listen to me," Althaea said, turning her head painfully to look up at her with one eye. "Remember your training. I'm not going to make it; don't waste the medigel. I'll be selfish, though: give me something for the pain, it's terrible. What a way to die, face down like this. Well, I guess they'll finally see the back of _this_ Turian."

Eunoe, who didn't think of herself as the emotional type, found it difficult to control her tears.

She grabbed her commanding officer's hand and nodded.

"Alright," she said, pulling out the syringe. "I'm sorry."

"I knew this would happen someday," Althaea said, after coughing again. "I've been too lucky as it is. Listen to me, though."

"Okay," Eunoe said. "Whatever you want. I'll visit your parents, I'll—"

"No, not that," Althaea said, before letting out a sigh of relief as Eunoe injected the powerful pain suppressants. It was a lethal dose, but who cared at this point?

"I, I just want you to remember," Althaea said, fighting off the dual effects of the pain medication and encroaching death. "These aliens are just fighting for their homes. I've seen it a hundred times. I can't…"

Althaea's hand shook.

"Maybe there's a reason for this," Althaea said instead. "But I can't see it anymore. All of us dying, just so the Hierarchy can fellate itself. We have no reason to be here. The only... the only reason I stayed in the service was to prevent..."

Althaea coughed again.

"Have mercy on the aliens," she said instead. "Don't let… the men…"

Althaea's grasp on Eunoe's hand slackened, and Eunoe knew it was over. Althaea's eyes had glistened over, but had stayed open. Eunoe pushed them shut.

She gave herself a moment to recover, holding Althaea's dead hand, and getting ready to turn her over onto her back. It was only proper, that she be facing up.

A loud snapping noise above her caused her head to snap up.

Junoa was prone against the wall, pinned to it by some kind of glowing green rod, driven through her by an alien standing behind her. The alien's skin looked smooth, like a pink version of Asari skin, but the clothing she wore was bright green.

She felt time slow again, as she reached slowly, ponderously for her weapon next to Althaea's body, too slow to stop the alien reaching up with impossible speed to snap Junoa's neck, stopping the soldier's struggle as Eunoe watched in horror. It seemed to her that the alien glowed with an impossible green glow, especially her neck, like something out of ancient mythology, and some distant part of her mind even had time to register that if the alien had been Asari, she would have been a child.

Then she felt something on her helmet, and saw her weapon _crushed_ somehow under a bare alien limb.

Time returned to normal speed, and she froze.

"Don't move," a voice said in perfect female Turian, seeming to echo impossibly in her mind. Then something pressed down, an unbearable pressure inside her skull, causing pain in places that should not have ever felt pain. It _hurt—_

The darkness was merciful.


	2. Collision Point

Emma slid to the ground tiredly, rubbing her eyes with gloved hands. Thankfully, her costume replaced her clothing every time she moved in and out of her transformation. She'd gotten a lot of blood on her.

Emma looked at her hands with a sick expression. She'd thought that this would be a satisfying experience. These were the same aliens that had forced Abigail to commit suicide, after all.

But these were also the aliens that had screamed in fear as she'd slammed into them. Aliens who had tried to crawl away as she slammed her halberd into the backs of their skulls. Aliens that had—

Emma whimpered and squeezed her eyes shut. That only made things worse, the images playing back over her eyelids, of the one time she'd managed to knock the helmet off one of them.

They had faces. She couldn't get it out of her head. They had faces like humans did, with funny eyebrow analogs and brow ridges and and and—

Emma scrubbed at her eyes, trying not to break into tears. No. No. This was her duty. This was what she needed to do, what she was meant to do. She was a magical girl. She was supposed to protect humanity. She was doing her job. It was okay. It—

Ryouko appeared in a flash of green light, along with Rika, the only telepath on the team, and the body of an alien. The younger girl immediately collapsed to her knees and retched, spilling her lunch across the floor.

"Ryouko!" Asami cried, skidding to her knees beside her. "Ryouko what's wrong, are you hurt?"

Ryouko pushed her away wordlessly before retching again, and again, until her stomach was empty and she was reduced to dry heaves.

"I— I k-killed—" Ryouko stammered, before dry heaving again.

Asami blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I killed the alien," Ryouko said. "I killed it it was right there _and I killed it_."

Asami blinked, and realized that Ryouko was beginning to cry. "Ryouko…"

"I could hear them talking on the translator!" Ryouko sobbed. "They'd— I killed one of their friends— they were _hurt—_ "

"Ryouko, stop it," said Asami, grabbing her girlfriend by the shoulders. "Ryouko I— it's—"

"Get up," Nadya said quietly, pulling Ryouko to her feet. The younger girl sagged in Nadya's grip. "Ryouko Shizuki, get up on your feet _this instant_."

"I— Nadya—"

" _What did you say?!_ "

"I-I mean, y-yes m-ma'am," said Ryouko, getting her feet underneath her shakily. "S-sorry m-ma'am."

"Nakihara, help your girlfriend back to the wall," said Nadya sharply. "You two, take the prisoner into one of the large utility closets. We'll deal with it later."

"Yes ma'am," the two girls said, quietly. They carried the alien away in silence. Asami slung one of Ryouko's arms over her shoulder, the other girl hollow-eyed as she was led away to the wall, where everyone else was gathered.

"Asami," Emma called out. She waved at an empty spot next to her, just big enough for two people to sit. "Over here."

"Right."

Asami and Ryouko shambled over. Ryouko slid bonelessly to the ground, forcing Emma and Asami to catch her.

"Oh Ryouko," Emma sighed. "What happened to you?"

"She said something about killing an alien?" Asami said. "I don't really get it."

"Did she melee it?"

"I… I think so?"

"That's why," said Emma. She didn't offer any more explanation, but pulled Ryouko into a hug.

"I killed them, Emma," Ryouko whispered, as Asami cuddled into Ryouko's side. "I reached up and snapped one of their necks."

"I know, I know," Emma said, rubbing Ryouko's back. "I… I did too. I did worse."

Ryouko looked up at her. "Really?"

"Y-yeah," said Emma. She swallowed heavily. "Y-yeah I d-did. We— you— j-just try not to think. At all. It's easier that way."

"Okay," said Ryouko quietly, curling her legs up and hugging them to her chest as she stared out across her knees.

* * *

No one really liked the Leadership Committee virtual meeting room.

Sure, it was grand in its own special way. Based on an actual location on Earth, it had a beautiful mahogany meeting table carved out of a single giant piece of wood, flanked with rows of the most comfortable chairs Kyouko had ever had the pleasure of sitting in. The leather felt sensuous on the skin, reminding her with disturbing fidelity of certain amorous encounters she had been involved in. A small platoon of server bots delivered drinks and snacks at your every whim, including a coffee whose quality was legendary.

The dominating feature of the room was definitely the surroundings, though. Physically, the Leadership Committee met at the top floor of one the tallest buildings in Mitakihara, and the meeting room itself was surrounded by nearly panoramic set of windows, as well as fully transparent ceiling, all of it fully tunable to provide whatever view the attendees found most comfortable—and to block out the blinding sun, as was often necessary. It was audacious, meeting at the crown of Mitakihara, within theoretically the full view of every drone and surveillance system in the area.

Still, though, they had met there for over two centuries now, and it was getting tiresome. Barely anyone ever showed up to the actual physical room anymore, so it was more than possible to choose a different meeting location. Yuma would have preferred some outdoors locations, for instance, while Mami would probably have liked a few tea rooms. Kyouko would have merely preferred some variety and Homura… well actually nobody had any idea what Homura would prefer. She was quiet like that.

The Committee could never agree on a change, though, so the Crown Room it was, time and again.

"So as you can see, the prospects for a rescue mission for our girls on the surface are remote, at best," the current speaker, Odette François, explained, gesturing at a holographic representation of the Nazra Invictus system. "At least in the near term. The Soul Guard is willing and able to send a special operations team to retrieve our girls on-site, but it will not be possible for them to reach the planet in less than three days. In that time, it is very likely the colony will have already been overrun."

"Is it possible that we could send a different type of ship for them?" Mami asked, looking over from her Second Executive Seat directly at Kyouko. "If I remember correctly, we should have several supply ships already traversing the area, at the very least for grief cube supply reasons. How much do we know about the Alien's control of planetary orbit?"

Yuma, who was seated next to Kyouko, shook her head.

"Very little," she said. "I wouldn't consider sending any ships except our best stealth ships, and even that's taking a risk."

"Besides, the ships we have in the area are merchant class vessels," Kyouko said. "Hardly suited for any kind of stealth or chasing. Big honking ships, honestly."

"You don't have to tell me," Clarisse van Rossum said, scowling. "I can feel my gem trying to drag me to the planet, and here I am stuck on this damn flying bread van. I'm surprised this thing even flies. You have no idea how uncomfortable it is, but I've turned this ship around. I know not to tempt fate. I'm going to have to get a new ship somehow…"

"We should still prepare a special operations team," Kuroi Kana suggested. "It can't hurt to have them ready to go. We just need to think of a way to at least stall the aliens."

"Well, we _have_ managed to translate the alien ultimatum," Mami said. "It seems like they're offended by our tinkering with those orbital structures they call 'mass relays'. If that's all it is, perhaps a ceasefire could be worked out."

"If that was all it was, they wouldn't be here with a goddamn fleet," Kyouko said, putting her best delinquent lilt onto "goddamn". "And you saw what they did to that AI. We have no idea what they've done with the scientists on the station. Shot them all, maybe."

"Reports from the planet suggest they take prisoners," Mami said, frowning. "For what it's worth."

"I do not believe that we are thinking big enough," the First Executive and Chairman of the Committee, Akemi Homura, said from her seat at the head of the table.

The table fell silent. Though the MSY was loathe to admit it, Homura was basically their Queen, and she behaved like one, rarely ever participating in discussions, content to set the meeting agendas and watch in monarchical silence. When she did speak, though, the committee paid attention.

Homura stood up, encompassing the rest of the table in her gaze.

"This is First Contact with a sentient alien race," she said. "Incubators excluded, of course. It is literally unprecedented, and there is a distinct possibility that the actions taken here—by us, by Governance, by these aliens, and by the humans on the surface—will resonate over the coming decades, centuries, or even more. We should think in those terms, rather than over the narrow issues of fulfilling the obligations of our organization to the girls on the surface."

Homura paused, again sweeping the table with her gaze.

"We have not faced the issue of what will happen if the aliens refuse to accept a ceasefire or parley. If so, we will not be able to intervene in time. Neither will Governance, even though it is already gathering the Fleet. What then? What would you have our girls on the surface do? They may be forced to fight or die. You all know the secrets that must be kept. Will we tell them to sacrifice themselves for the sake of some secrets? Will they listen to us?"

She paused again, smiling sardonically.

"I think we have relevant questions for our resident alien. Wouldn't you say so, Kyubey?"

"Oh certainly!"

The Incubator in question materialized out of thin air from just above the First Executive's chair, landing adroitly on the surface of the table. It was well-known that the Incubators monitored the proceedings of all the MSY governmental organs, though they kept themselves invisible out of respect, and because it was frankly unnerving having the famous alien bunny-cats constantly watching with their unchanging smiles.

"The Masquerade has certainly served its purpose for a long time," Kyubey said in its customarily cheerful voice. "But it has never been our opinion that it must be maintained forever. With the degree of influence that the MSY wields, and the current technological and social maturity of your species, it is possible that a reveal of the secret will be acceptable to us."

The Incubators hardly ever gave information without being directly questioned, much less spoke words of such monumental portent. As Kyubey sat there with its unchanging smile, rubbing its head playfully with one paw, expressions of shock spread down the table, and even onto the face of Akemi Homura.

"Do you mean—" Homura began.

"Events are already out of your hands," Kyubey said. "The secret is broken, and we did not stop it."

As one, the members of the committee turned their heads towards the hologram at the center of the table, which had begun flashing and making an urgent noise.

"We have a new transmission from Nadya Antipova," Odette said.

* * *

"Are you sure?"

"Yes sir," said Septimus' aide. "We've completely lost contact with the platoon. Our comms aren't being jammed, and even if they'd lost their radioman we'd still expect IFF transponders to be active. The only way for them to go dark is if—"

"The platoon has been wiped out, yes, I know," said Legate Septimus darkly. "This is a disturbing development. Thank you, that will be all."

The aide nodded smartly, snapped a salute, and retreated from the combat operations room of the dreadnought, where the Legate and his staff were running things. Or, as it seemed, merely reacting to increasingly disturbing developments.

"This is starting to get out of hand, Legate," said Septimus's second in command, Arturius. "General Tyrannis still hasn't established air superiority, and—"

"I know that Arturius," snapped Septimus. He opened, then shut his mouth with a sigh. "…Forgive me, Tribune. Things are not going to plan."

"I understand, there is nothing to forgive," said Arturius. "Let's just focus on the problem."

"Yes, yes," said Septimus, running a talon over his face. "Right, what have we accomplished so far? The beachhead is secure?"

"Yes, First Division is holding it easily," said Arturius. The battlemap shifted to focus on the primary landing zone of Legions Victrix and Ferrata. A ring of fortifications had already been built, with the legions pushing forward slowly towards designated objectives. "Enemy resistance is unexpectedly strong, but unless they surrender we will overrun them within three local days."

"How sure are you of that prediction?" asked Septimus, raising a brow plate. "You recall our projections before we landed?"

"Yes, well," said Arturius with a sigh. "That's the problem isn't it? This report about losing a platoon, without even a distress call…"

"Exotic weaponry?"

"Of course, you would think that, but…"

"Well, what else would you suggest?"

"I do not know," said Arturius, steepling his talons with a frown. "There were no units there—" he reached out and tapped at the where the missing platoon had been headed "—and our surveillance didn't pick up anything except flashes of multicolored light."

Septimus sighed. "Damn this lack of air superiority. We need to secure that comms station."

"Is that strictly wise?" asked Arturius. "They may need it to communicate with their species' leader."

"It is more important to remove their ability to resist, I think," said Septimus. "The faster we can force a surrender, the better."

"Are we to be a conquering army, Legate?" asked Arturius.

"No, of course not Tribune, don't be ridiculous,' said Septimus, waving a talon. "We force a surrender and then withdraw to appropriate lines. That's how we've always done it, hasn't it?"

"Perhaps, but we also have never faced as much resistance as we have here. What drives these aliens to resist so vehemently?"

"There are many unknowns, but we must proceed as best we can," said Septimus. "It is the only way to ensure galactic peace."

Arturius closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they had hardened with resolve. "…Yes, you're right," he said. "An artillery barrage, then, followed by an assault?"

Septimus nodded.

"Yes. That is for the best."

* * *

When Eunoe opened her eyes again, it was with a sense of surprise, once the initial fog had cleared.

 _I'm not dead?_ she thought. _Or is there an afterlife after all?_ _But then why is it so dark?_

Then she realized she could still feel her body, that her head ached, and that her hands were tied behind her back.

A moment later, the room brightened, and she found herself at just below eye level with one of the pink aliens, except that the alien was standing, and Eunoe was seated and restrained. Two more of the aliens watched from farther back in the room.

Eunoe tugged at her restraints. As expected, they wouldn't yield. Well, it felt almost mandatory to try. Maybe she could loosen them later.

"Can you understand me?" the alien in front of her said, with the slightly stilted tone of someone speaking through an omnitool universal translator. Eunoe couldn't see where the omnitool was, though.

"My name is Eunoe Aurelian, Serial Code 0E45F79A, Turian Hierarchy Marines. By the terms of the Convention of—"

"Oh for the love of—" one of the aliens in the back said, stepping forward and leaning towards Eunoe, pushing the other alien aside.

"We read your damn ultimatum," the alien said. "We don't know who your Council is, or what your laws are, or what the Turian Hierarchy is, or what Mass Effect Relays are, or what the Convention of whatever is. Why did you expect us to know any of that? And here you are invading us like we're somehow in the wrong. On our planets, we don't go torching aliens for not following our rules they don't know about."

Eunoe looked up at the alien's gaze, taking in the words, which sunk into her gut like razor-sharp blades. The aliens didn't even know what a Mass Effect Relay _was_! They had just been experimenting with it!

Part of her was convinced this must be some kind of psychological ploy, but most of her realized that this what exactly what Althaea was worrying about—

 _Had_. What Althaea _had_ been worrying about.

For a moment, she saw Althaea dying on the floor, Junoa getting her neck snapped in front of her, and she remembered how long she had—

"My name is Eunoe Aurelian, Serial Code 0E44— I mean, 0E45," she began again shakily, filled with a quietly burning rage, not at the aliens in front of her, but at the universe in general. What a cosmic joke—

She realized abruptly she was crying, and felt ashamed. A Turian, crying in a hostile interrogation and showing obvious weakness. All those weeks of interrogation training had clearly been wasted on her.

"Back off, Nadya," one of the aliens said.

She felt the alien grab her by the jaw, turning her face so that their eyes met.

"Look, I'm sorry about your friends, but _you_ were the people who invaded _us_. Maybe, if you talk—"

Eunoe spat in the alien's face.

"I have nothing to say to you," she snarled.

The alien stood back up calmly, taking out a cloth to wipe her face.

"Well, we tried this the easy way. You _are_ an alien, so it might take a while, but I will eventually be able to crack your head open. It won't be pleasant if we have to do it that way."

The alien put her hands on Eunoe's head.

"I don't know why you're giving it the chance," "Nadya" said. "Clearly, it's not going to talk. I'm sure if you just try it long enough, the other approach will eventually work."

"Look, am I the specialist or you?" the alien asked. "We do things my way. It's too annoying to try and break its mind when I don't understand how it works, but I'll do it if I have to. For now—"

Eunoe saw a nimbus of light gather around the alien's hands, glowing in her peripheral vision as an impossible force pressed against her mind. It was like an Asari mind meld, but—

"—we do it like this."

—painful, as whatever it was forced its way into Eunoe's head again. She wanted to scream but—

 _The alien reached up to snap Junoa's neck, smiling gloatingly, mockingly at Eunoe. Eunoe fired her weapon—fired, and fired, and fired, and it did nothing, the bullets passing through the alien seemingly without harm._

 _The alien even seemed to mock her, stopping her arm for a moment to laugh at Eunoe, as Junoa struggled, and struggled, and struggled…_

 _Eunoe felt the heat sink of her rifle grow hotter and hotter, painful enough to burn her hands off, Eunoe holding down the ejection override, knowing she was destroying her weapon, but also knowing she could not stop firing._

 _Finally, sickeningly, Junoa died, the crack of her neck resounding in Eunoe's ears as she watched, helplessly, still firing._

 _The alien turned to look at her, the expression different, one of sorrow and anger._

" _You let me die," Junoa accused, her lips moving on a head that was now bent at a distinctly unnatural angle._

" _No!" Eunoe said. "I was taking care of Althaea! I couldn't react fast enough!"_

" _What a disappointment you'd be to her right now," the alien said, in flawless Turian. "Crying to yourself in an interrogation chair. Letting squadmates down. Letting her die. A disgrace."_

" _That's not true! I—"_

 _The alien didn't wait for her to explain, and a moment later she found herself staring the alien in its cold, round pupils, the alien's hands locked on her mandibles._

" _Good night, Eunoe," the alien said._

 _The pain returned—_

" _Peaceful place," she heard herself say._

 _She found herself looking over a violet alien ocean, stretching away towards an infinite horizon, alien sun setting slowly. Reptilian flying creatures chirped at each other, high in the sky._

" _Isn't it?" Althaea said, a long moment later, turning to look at her. "I was born here, you know."_

" _Were you?" Eunoe asked, turning towards the other Turian._

" _Yeah. I like taking leave here. Reminds me of where I come from."_

 _Eunoe made a show of looking around them, even though she had already toured the place—a small fishing village on the edge of a great ocean, part of a small Turian settlement on the planet. It made for quite a change from Palaven, where Eunoe took most of her leaves._

" _When are we getting to meet your family, then?" she asked._

 _Althaea smiled slightly._

" _Well, actually, my family is dead. The colony got hit by Batarian slave traders when I was a girl. Audacious idiots. Colonial defenses forces responded fast enough to put them down, but not before most of this village here got sacked. I hid under a bed, myself. The Hierarchy made sure we got some retribution, though. There's a reason no one attacks Turian worlds."_

 _Althaea said it so matter-of-factly that Eunoe couldn't help gaping in astonishment, spreading her arms out in a gesture of dismay._

" _So, what, you come here to remember what happened, so you can get motivation to kill pirates?" Eunoe asked._

" _A little, if I'm honest," Althaea said. "But given the kind of work we've been involved in, it's also to remind myself never to do anything similar. I joined the front lines to fight those kinds of people, not to become them."_

" _You think the Turian Hierarchy would ever do anything like that?" Eunoe asked, incredulously. "We're too well-trained for that. We're just not bloodthirsty like that."_

 _Althaea shook her head._

" _War changes people. You seriously think all those Turians in mercenary groups, the Red Suns or whatever, they've never done anything like that? A lot of them are ex-military. You don't think we don't have people like that in the ranks right now? You've got to keep your eye out, Eunoe. Take that from a veteran."_

 _Eunoe nodded, but realized Althaea had stopped looking at her, choosing to instead look back over the fishing village._

 _She wondered what Althaea was seeing…_

 _She found herself seated in a small room, along with a small circle of Species Orion Aliens. The group was tense, talking nervously about various topics._

 _She kept to herself, though. In her mind, she kept checking desperately for something, anything, from the mining areas of the colony. But there was nothing—Nothing!_

 _The sector had been overrun by those damned aliens an hour ago, and there had been no news since. She had just kept checking, and checking, but there was no sign of them—_

" _Onee-chan!"_

 _She heard her sister's voice in her mind, the memories aching to grasp. Were they dead? She couldn't know…_

 _She felt herself driving her spear through the chest of the alien, driving through it into the ground, the rage surging powerfully within her. The alien coughed blue blood onto her costume, struggling against her. She felt disgusted and sick, but in her mind she kept seeing the surveillance footage they had finally gotten, of burned-out buildings and ruined homes, swarming with the damned aliens. No sign of…_

 _The alien held her sister up against the wall, smiling viciously. She tried to reach forward, stab the alien with her spear, but instead the alien just laughed, reaching up and snapping her sister's neck in one swift motion, her sister's screams turning into a sickening gurgling noise._

 _The alien's eyes, narrow and vertical, taunted her, and she had to—_

"Break the connection! Break it! Oh God—"

Eunoe's eyes snapped open, and she saw one of the aliens dragging the other away from her. She met the alien's eyes, and knew instantly whose sister she had been seeing in the flashback, that twisted version of her own memories.

"What happened?" the other alien demanded, and somehow Eunoe knew now that she was the older one.

"I didn't block leakage properly," the alien said desperately. "Oh, God I'm not trained for this. There was too much two-way—"

The older alien shot an angry glance at Eunoe, pulling the younger with her out of the doorway, which slid shut behind them, leaving Eunoe again alone with the darkness.

Eunoe looked down at her legs, feeling the tears trickling from her eyes, the raw emotion still fresh from the dream—whatever it had been.

It was irrational, feeling such sympathy for an enemy alien, but she knew one thing now: when she got out of here, she would find that alien her family again. The Turian military wouldn't shoot civilians in cold blood, she knew that.

She didn't allow the doubt about that to gnaw at her.

* * *

Lieutenant Kyousuke Akiyama was a member of the garrison on Nazra Invictus. As was typical for these sorts of things, he was experienced, and had earned a few years of service on a quiet colony out in the sticks after fighting through two rogue systems and evacuating a different scientific colony that found itself besieged by parasitic locusts. As a result, he liked to think that he'd seen a lot of shit in his day.

A sixteen-year-old girl, standing in front of him in some sort of sparkly outfit out of an anime his grandkids watched and wielding a fucking sword of all things, was way beyond any of that.

"Hello," the girl said. Her name was apparently Tricia. "Welcome to the IIC node, I uh, I guess."

"The fuck is going on?" Kyousuke asked. Mentally, he ordered his men to spread out around him. This probably wasn't some sort of alien trap, but then again you could never be too paranoid. "And what the fuck are you wearing?"

"Hey I like my— er, that's not important," said Tricia. "I uh, well, you're the commanding officer, right? Of Second Platoon, B Company?"

Kyousuke nodded cautiously. He silently acknowledged that one of his sniper teams had a clear shot, but ordered them to hold their fire unless he gave the order. "Yes…"

"My uh, my own commanding officer would like a moment of your time," said Tricia.

"I need to get my troops into a defensive position," said Kyousuke, shaking his head. "Whatev— _who_ ever the hell you are, my soldiers come first."

Tricia paused, eyes flicking to the side briefly, before nodding. "My commanding officer says that's fine, she'll just come to you. And uh, besides, we'll be helpful."

"Helpful? What do you mean by—"

A flash of green light made him dive behind a broken wall, drawing his pistol. It was a very, very good thing that he had soldiers with disciplined trigger fingers.

"Ah, sorry sorry!" Tricia called. "Please don't shoot! We're on your side!"

"Put down whatever weapons you have and—" Kyousuke began to yell.

"We don't have any weapons," a new voice yelled back. She sounded older than Tricia, but still near her twenties; still young. "We're going to stand here in the open. You can peek around with your gun if you want."

Kyousuke did just that, the guncam feeding into ocular implants and making him blink in astonishment.

"There's more of you?" he asked, emerging from cover but keeping his weapon out. "What is this bullshit?"

"Unfortunately, that does depend," said the older girl. Another girl stood just behind her. "My name is Nadya Antipova. I understand you are probably confused with the situation at hand."

"That's one way to put it," said Kyousuke dryly. "Another way to put it is that I don't rightly know what to do with you, and as far as I'm concerned paranoia is better than complacency."

"Yes, to your credit, Lieutenant," said Nadya. She gestured vaguely. "In this case, at least, I can assure you that your paranoia is not necessary. We are most certainly human."

"Uh huh, because the Military recruits little girls," said Kyousuke flatly. "If you're human, y'all are too damn young to still be here. The evac order went out ages ago."

"Then let me prove it to you," said Nadya. "I'd like to show you something."

"Which ain't ominous at all," said Kyousuke, gun drifting upwards.

"Calm down, Lieutenant, it's just a memory record," said Nadya. She very slowly waved a hand as a small child materialised in the air beneath her fingers. It took a moment for Kyousuke to realize that the child was a younger version of Nadya, and that the model was actually part of a three-dimensional home video recording.

The vid had started in freeze-frame. Nadya was about five to six years old, wearing a swimsuit and mid-sprint towards some distant body of water, running through grass that had sprung up out of the rubble and the permacrete on the grounds surrounding the IIC node. A moment later the vid began to play.

"Smile for me Nadya!" someone yelled as Nadya's younger self raced past, the view panning to follow her. "Come on, for the vid!"

"Nyaa!"

The younger Nadya paused just long enough to pull a face at the recorder that involved her tongue and peeling back her eyelids. She then ran on, ignorant to the admonishments of the recorder for making such faces and dashing onto the wood planks of a small dock—straight past a slightly older-looking boy, who had been dabbling his feet into the water.

"Whoo!"

The resulting deluge soaked the boy completely.

"Nadya!" the boy shouted, enraged. "You—!"

"Hahaha, got you!" Nadya laughed, before screaming in delighted alarm as the boy jumped in, tackling her over into the shallows.

"Play nice children," the recorder admonished, jogging forward to observe the rapidly escalating splashing-and-dunking fight. "Don't—"

A stray splash caused the view to go black briefly as the recorder ducked, then re-emerged blinking water out of their eyes.

There was a moment of horrified silence.

"S-sorry Mom," the boy stammered.

"Y-yeah," Nadya added, nodding. "Viktor wasn't supposed to duck."

"What do you mean 'not supposed to duck'?!" Viktor asked, immediately rounding back on his sister. "What else was I supposed to do, let you splash me?"

"Yup," said Nadya, sticking her tongue out.

"You—!"

"Children," Nadya's mother intoned darkly. The siblings immediately went pale and silent.

"Children," Nadya's mother continued. "Prepare to meet your fate at the hands of the Splash Master."

Nadya and Viktor scrambled away from shore as Nadya's mother backed up briefly, then dashed off the dock and created a wave that engulfed both children. The video cut off there.

There was a pause.

"Satisfied?" Nadya asked, waving away the video.

"Good enough," said Kyousuke with a sigh and a shake of his head. "Between that vid and your existence on the nomenclator, I guess I can't think of any more complete a verification."

Nadya nodded, some tension leaving her shoulders. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'm glad we understand each other."

"Don't thank me yet," said Kyousuke drily. He holstered his pistol and signaled his snipers to stand down. "Next question: What's with the anime clothes?"

Nadya pressed her lips together.

"You're not that far off," she said, finally. "You could say that we're anime made into reality."

Kyousuke cocked his head to the side, but said nothing.

"What do you know of the magical girl genre?" Nadya asked.

"My grandkids love it," said Kyousuke. "That's about it."

"We fund the magical girl genre. Ryouko, if you could."

Kyousuke looked over as another girl, even younger, only fourteen, stepped forward. She looked him in the eye, and he had enough time to register the hollowed-out expression of a rookie, fresh from their first firefight, before she disappeared in a flash of green.

"Oh hell," Kyousuke said as he turned on the spot, finding Ryouko standing a few feet behind him. "Y'all have gotta be shitting me."

"I am not," said Nadya. "We are magical girls. We came here with this science expedition for… a few reasons, none of which are important right now. What is important is that we are powerful and lethal. The destruction you see here is a result of our efforts. We offer our aid in the coming conflict."

"Your aid huh," said Kyousuke, looking at Ryouko. She looked back at him, slightly apprehensive. "Ryouko, right? That's your name?"

Ryouko nodded. "It is."

Kyousuke nodded to himself.

"You know I have a granddaughter named Ryouko," said Kyousuke. "Though she's a lot younger than you. She turned nine a few weeks ago."

Ryouko swallowed and bit her lip. She blinked twice, then looked down to the ground, hands held stiffly at her sides.

Kyousuke looked at her for a moment, then turned back to Nadya. "Ma'am, I speak for the whole garrison when I say that your actions here are greatly appreciated. But with all due respect, I am not going to accept the aid of children to fight this goddamn war. Your people may stand down until this is all over."

"With all due respect, Lieutenant Akiyama, you cannot afford that," said Nadya. "One of our powers is clairvoyance, and our specialists have seen that the aliens are mustering an assault on the IIC node. Our best estimates are something like a division's worth, along with artillery support. We are the only thing standing between your unit and obliteration."

"Then we will fight as best we can," said Kyousuke. "But these children will not—"

"These children are already baptized in the fires of war, Lieutenant," said Nadya. "They have already lost the innocence they once had. For that matter, many of the adults among us have as well. Your attempts to shield us from harm are commendable, but, unfortunately, you are too late."

"Sir, long range sensors are registering incoming tangoes," one of Kyousuke's soldiers reported. "Looks like fifty clicks out. We don't got a lotta time."

Kyousuke grit his teeth. "Jesus. Fine then," he said. "Second Platoon, start setting up defensive positions. Commander—" he glanced at Nadya, who nodded "—Commander Antipova will coordinate the… magical girl forces with us."

"…You serious, Lieutenant?" asked one of the troops.

"I wish I wasn't," Kyousuke replied. "We got kids on our hands, folks. Treat them gentle-like, alright?"

"Yes sir."

Kyousuke returned his attention to Nadya, crossing his arms in her direction. It was strange. The girl couldn't be older than eighteen, yet something about her manner made her feel decades older.

Nothing to worry about now.

"Miss Antipova," he said. "I hope to Jesus you know what the fuck you're doing."

* * *

Eunoe woke again to the sound of something clattering.

She looked around in the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adapt. Maybe it had just been a local rodent…

The lights turned on.

A new alien stood in front of her, looking down at her.

Eunoe looked back to the ground, mourning her situation. She wondered who this was. Perhaps the alien torture-master? It seemed depressingly likely.

"I'm not supposed to be here," the alien said. "So I'll keep it short. Why did you kill the AI aboard the space station?"

"What? The AI?" Eunoe asked.

"Yes, the AI," it said, grabbing Eunoe's jaw. Why did the aliens do that so much?

Eunoe looked away. Strictly, she shouldn't be saying anything, but what could it hurt? She didn't know anything, and that was the truth.

"I had nothing to do with that," Eunoe said.

"WHY did they kill her?" the alien demanded, jerking Eunoe's head towards her with startling force.

"Her? You mean the AI?" Eunoe said. "AIs are abominations, banned by the Council. Subject to termination—"

The slap across the face flung her skull around so fast and so painfully she was briefly afraid her neck had snapped. But no, no… Turians were tougher than that.

"YOU KILLED HER!" the alien screamed at her. "She was a living, thinking being, and you killed her. We had to listen to her die! Subject to termination? If that's how you aliens think, then I will kill every last one of you!"

"Just like you killed my squad members?" Eunoe snapped, knowing she was saying too much. "Did your friend enjoy snapping Junoa's neck? She looked like she did! And—"

The alien grabbed her skull again, lifting her and the chair off the floor so that the weight of it pulling down started to choke her—

"The _difference_ ," it snarled, "is that _you_ came to _kill_ us. Not the other way around. And you're going to complain about _your_ squadmates?"

Eunoe couldn't breathe, and the world spun around her in the alien's impossibly strong grip. She knew, somehow, that the alien could crush her windpipe with barely a thought.

Then her head rang out in pain as she felt herself slammed back into the back wall, still tied to the chair. Incredibly, the chair stayed in one piece, leaving her on the floor in a choking mess, wondering through the pain if her skull and all her limbs were still intact.

"I'm sorry," Eunoe choked out, not believing what she was saying.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," Eunoe repeated.

The alien dropped Eunoe back to the floor with a clatter, and Eunoe gasped for breath.

"Sorry for _what_?" it demanded.

"For all of this," Eunoe said, spitefully, feeling the emotions flooding back into her. "Althaea was right about this invasion all along. No one on this planet even knows what the Council is, right? Or Mass Effect Relays? Yet here we are, cheerfully shooting civilians. All because of blowhard Primarchs drunk on military glory. This is all a political ploy by the interventionists, you know that?"

Eunoe hung her head in shame, unwilling to control the rant she felt coming from her lips. The only consolation she had was that she was certain none of this information had any value to the alien.

"This isn't what I joined the infantry for," she said. "I joined because I wanted to protect the galaxy. Instead here I am, shooting the people I wanted to protect. This is all a joke, and it got Althaea and Junoa and probably everyone else killed. You colonists are getting killed out there because of a _joke_. You want revenge? Shoot me. It's your right."

For what seemed like a long time, there was silence, except for Eunoe's still-labored breathing. For a moment, Eunoe even thought the alien was gone, or that she was really about to be shot.

"Is that true?" it asked. "Do you really believe that?"

Eunoe looked up, looking the alien in the eye.

"Yes," she said.

The alien surprised her by dropping down to its knees, so that they could look each other in the eye.

"Then _talk_ to us," it said. "Tell us how we can end this fighting? None of us like this killing, or this fighting. They've been attacking us for hours! It's only a matter of time before one of us gets killed. What do we have to do? Can we communicate with your commander?"

Eunoe looked back dully, wondering what was going to happen to her now.

"Do?" she said, even feeling a trace of a dark smile creeping up her lips. "Legate Septimus is a stubborn man. I imagine you're going to have to kill quite a few of us before he's going to agree to talk to you. I don't know how you're going to do that."

The alien looked away—sad, it seemed to Eunoe, if she wasn't imagining things.

"I was afraid of that," the alien said, a moment later. "What if you talked to them?"

"I won't," Eunoe said immediately, having known this was coming. "They'd brand me a traitor, and wouldn't listen to anything I said. That's how it works. You couldn't make me. I mean that."

The alien let out a breath, then looked back at Eunoe.

"Well, we'll see," it said, looking back at her and seeming to smile slightly. "My name is Nakihara Asami. Ah, Asami is the personal name, and Nakihara is the family name. I don't know if that means anything to you. And uh, I'm female. For whatever it's worth."

"Eunoe Aurelian," Eunoe said. "Uh, Aurelian is the family name, so I guess our species are similar? Well, most species have family names. I'm female too."

"There's more than one species?"

"Well, yes, that's why there's a Council. The three Council races are the Turians, that would be us I guess, the Asari, and the Salarians. There's also—"

The door flew open, almost flying off its hinges, flooding the room with light.

Three aliens charged in, bright and glowing, and before Eunoe even knew what was going on, she found her neck at the pointy end of an archaic crossbow.

"Are you alright, Asami?" the alien demanded, looking at Asami. "Has something happened?"

It took a moment for Eunoe's eyes to focus on the face of the new alien in the sudden bright light, and when they finally did, she saw again the alien leering as she killed Althaea, skeletal grin taunting.

Everything went black after that.

* * *

MSY Finance possessed an extremely diverse portfolio. This included substantial holdings in breweries, distilleries, and vineyards. As it turned out, alcoholic beverages could be extremely lucrative, given the correct circumstances.

The Japanese whisky market had been founded back in the 1930s. It had matured into a profitable and skilled artisanal industry by the time Homura had been born. Indeed, for over fifty years, whiskies from Japan, not Europe, where the drink had come from, were considered the best in the world, dethroning the vaunted Scottish, Irish, and American Distilleries. For over fifty years, the MSY used their holdings in these companies to make a lot of money.

Other elements of MSY Finance's investment portfolio ultimately accounted for more of the MSY's annual earnings, but their holdings in the whisky business were significant enough that, if whisky were to somehow go bust, a restructuring of the portfolio would have to occur. The Shizuki and Kuroi Matriarchies both spent a hefty sum every year to market and distribute the brands they owned, and the Mikuni-ido Distillery, in Hokkaido, was run by its own, small, matriarchy, wholly dedicated to producing what was, to this day, one of humanity's most sought after alcohols.

Despite all of this, Homura had never touched the stuff before 2237. It had been a particularly trying year just after the Unification Wars. Despite the official declaration of peace, the ruins of the world still held rogue AIs, surviving FA Elites, and the cowering remnants of the guiltiest hyperclass, none of whom came easily or quietly. Widespread relocations, far too many refugees, and a surplus of armed rebels suddenly subject to the absolute rule of the EDC created mass unrest across the globe. On top of all of that, the Masquerade had been in something of a state of flux, to put things lightly, and securing the MSY's position in the new world was a nontrivial task. At the head of all of this was Homura, and despite the fact that she delegated quite aggressively to her subordinates, it was perhaps inevitable that the stress would start to wear her down.

Tired, angry, and beginning to dream far too often about Madoka, Homura had taken a leave of absence, disappearing from Mitakihara after leaving a note and setting off for Hokkaido. She had arrived at Mikuni-ido Distillery just as the snow had begun to fall, blanketing the mountains in clean, white silence.

She had definitely needed the respite from the rest of the world, even if she could never get respite from herself. For three months, Homura sat quietly in a cabin on the edge of the recently reopened property, painted, and wrote poetry. The Inoue Matriarchy had taken great care to let her have her own space. Serendipitously, Homura had even mentored the family's newest contractee, Yukiko. When Homura reappeared in Mitakihara, she had brought a bottle of whisky back with her. Every year since, a bottle of Mikuni-ido's finest had been shipped to Mitakihara for Homura's personal use.

It was, Homura reflected as she sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers, a very good thing that she had whisky so available. Otherwise, it would have been possible for her to lose her legendary composure in the current situation. Certainly, the rest of the room had erupted once Nadya's message had played out, Kyouko's loud swearing audible over the kerfuffle as everyone shouted at everyone else. Those who kept silent were simply panicking in different forms as they conducted mass crisis management.

The MSY's internal financial markets were probably exploding from the sheer volume of insider trading.

A delivery drone tapped Homura gently on the arm, then set her bottle on the table. A single elegantly carved crystal tumbler clinked down beside it, followed by a matching sake-flask of spring water. Glancing up, Homura had the tinted glass panel above her fade clear, allowing the sun to shine through.

Nazra Invictus was really in one of the tighter spots that Homura had seen in her long, far too memorable life. The only comparable situation had been a standoff in Africa during the MSY's initial expansion into the continent. Both sides of the war had magical girls fighting from the shadows, and the MSY's neutral team had been stuck in the crossfire, cut off from resupply and unable to hunt demons without getting involved in the war. Ending the Masquerade had been seriously considered as a worst case scenario, if political efforts and negotiations failed.

That had ultimately been unnecessary. Still, Homura couldn't help but notice that, all things considered, there were some significant similarities between the past and the present. She contemplated the situation as she poured her whisky into the glass. Two finger-widths and no more, the amber of the beverage shining clean and bright from the light of the sun. Homura added a touch of water, to help the aromas open up. Mikuni-ido's whisky was good enough that she didn't really need to, but by now it had become one of those personal traditions that Homura always felt compelled to do.

Homura held her glass up to the sun. The glass had been specially commissioned so that, as the sunbeams traveling through it bent and scattered, the contents would glow like the light of a soul gem. It was ironic, and occasionally tragic, but Homura didn't regret making the purchase. It helped to remind her what she was fighting for in Madoka's name.

Which was an interesting thought. She'd heard once, from a man in a bar in Shanghai, that ideology was one of the most dangerous things in the world. It drove movements, structured society, and caused great evil based on how it shaped people's beliefs. Doing things for ideology was, the man had claimed, the worst possible motivation, and caused most of the grief in the world.

And yet, before the dawn of the modern age, society had _run_ on ideology—on the interplay of tradition and belief and indoctrination, with the assurance that, if you just followed a certain set of rules, then everything would be okay.

Homura sipped from her glass. Hmm… unusually sweet for a whisky from Mikuni-ido. Then again, Yukiko had a habit of adding playful twists when she was given charge of a batch. The texture was singularly smooth, almost creamy, with malted barley and tangy cherries dancing together across Homura's tongue. There was something strangely omnipresent that also hovered amongst the flavors of the whisky, a slight mineral taste that made Homura think of mountaintops and polar ice caps. And of course, whisky's characteristic smoky flavors burned darkly in the background, like a smouldering pit of embers that cast long shadows across the floor.

Or, indeed, like the corruption that burned away at the souls of the girls on Nazra Invictus, its long, swirling fingers reaching up from the depths to grasp and tear at hearts and minds, sending those afflicted into spiraling despair.

Homura nodded to herself in approval. Yukiko really was a master of her craft. The girl Homura had mentored that winter in Hokkaido had matured into both a fine craftswoman, and, from the news she heard these days, an excellent matriarch. Many years had passed, and the child had become an adult, learning and gaining knowledge along the way. But it was here, in this glass of whisky, that it became clear that Yukiko had gained wisdom and insight as well.

Homura set her glass down with a clink.

"My friends," Homura said. It was a statement, delivered quietly, but with a power that resonated through the room. Conversation, if you could call a mass shouting match "conversation", came to a halt so abruptly that Kyouko physically flinched, caught in the middle of calling someone something extremely profane.

"My friends," Homura repeated, standing from her chair. The sun cascaded down her hair, shining around her and reflecting off the table top. "We are at a singular crossroads in history."

"It has been the belief of the MSY for many years that the Masquerade is a fundamental part of our existence as magical girls. The reasons each of us would cite for such secrecy are varied and deeply held, perhaps even as much as the wishes we hold dear in our hearts."

"And yet what cannot be denied is that each one of us in this room desires for humanity's magical girls to live their lives to the fullest. We seek stability and order in a world where chaos and destruction are seemingly inevitable. Those of us from the past recall times when we faced each other with murder in our souls, and pale Death hovered, waiting. It is only by the blessing of the Law of Cycles that, when our time in this world is ended, our sadness and our anger depart, and we are allowed to find a lasting peace."

"Those of us from the present know of the joy of life. Of friendship and love. Of glad hearts and of soul gems whose lights do not dim. We live now in a time of plenty, with the assurance that we need not fear whether we will see the coming of the dawn."

"This security in life must be preserved. We face now an enemy both great and terrible. From the words of Nadya Antipova, the fate of humanity is suddenly in flux. War stands at the door, with its brother, Death, and waits. It is patient, and confident, and will take from us everything it can touch. With both hands, it will reach out and snatch away the peace and security that we, the MSY, have spent so many years to achieve."

"Therefore, in accordance with the fundamental beliefs of this body, I propose that we endorse this _fait accompli_. I propose that we end this Masquerade."

* * *

Jaira T'Ari had not been having a good day.

She appreciated that among mixed-blood Asari, she was unusual for having a father that she could expect to see alive for most of her life. Most mixed-blood Asari barely knew their fathers, especially those poor souls who had Salarian fathers. Jaira, on the hand, had a Krogan father, and her parents had met young, which meant she could expect to see the old man alive and kicking well into her Matriarch stage, which was still a good five hundred or so years out.

That didn't make phone calls with old Krog Forsan any less tedious. By the Goddess, the man could go _on_ , and that was when he _wasn't_ busy lamenting Jaira's life choices. She had _tried_ being in the military, even made commando, but—

—Jaira frowned, twisting a ring around her middle finger, and flicked to the next document on her datapad. Those were not memories she wanted to go over again. Suffice to say, combat was not what she wanted to do for the remainder of her life.

No, she had started over, gotten a recommendation into the Asari diplomatic corps from some friends, and worked her way into being one of the youngest Asari diplomats, a friend of Councilor Tevos herself. By any measure, that was an accomplishment, but not if you asked Krog. He wanted her to be some kind of glorious Asari warlord—he honestly did not seem aware no such thing existed, unless you counted Aria out on Omega.

"Crazy bastard," she muttered to herself.

"He's restless. Isn't easy for a Krogan, tied up in your mother's purse strings like that. Other Krogan probably laugh at him behind his back. No choice. I can sympathize. Putting up with it is the only way to nail that sweet Asari—"

"As profane as ever, I see," Jaira said, sitting up at her desk to greet the newcomer. "What brings you here, Thaleon?"

Thaleon, the Salarian standing across from her, smiled in that oddly wrinkled way he had. A member of the Salarian Special Tasks Group, they had once been a bit of an item, back when she had still been a commando. It had been intense, hot—everything one might want, except deep.

So, it hadn't worked out. The break-up had been amicable, though, so they still kept quite in touch. Thaleon was her best, and almost only, connection within the STG, and she used it for all it was worth. The Salarians had the best intelligence services, despite whatever lies the Asari government had to tell itself to fall asleep at night. Sometimes a diplomat needed Intelligence, with a capital I.

"New special assignment," Thaleon said, placing a sealed diplomatic envelope onto her desk. "Eyes only. Sent by courier rather than electronically. Sealed with the best Asari technology. I read it, of course. I hope you don't mind."

Thaleon accentuated "the best Asari technology" with the same voice one would use to refer to "the best" alcoholic drinks.

Jaira gave Thaleon an annoyed look, picking up the envelope. Seal unbroken, DNA-coded watermarks still in place. As always, Thaleon was good at his job.

"What happened to the courier, Thaleon?" she asked, breaking the seal.

"Nothing that bad. Probably still passed out in the bar. Not going to keep her job, though. I like to think of it as weeding out the bad apples in the Asari diplomatic corps."

Jaira sighed, reading the diplomatic missive and sipping her drink. She rather liked Taina, even if she _was_ a bit of an airhead. She'd have to remember to put in a good word for her—maybe Taina could land in a harmless desk job instead of being fired outright.

"Well, well," she said, talking through her drink. "It looks like the Turians are being their usual hard-headed selves _once_ again. Intervening without consulting the rest of the Council or even their own diplomats, check. Not bothering to check whether species Orion even knows the Council exists, check. Using the maximum possible force in every single damn situation, check."

Jaira sighed, setting down the document and kneading at her brow ridge. "You know, sometimes I think my father would do a better job of running the Turian Hierarchy than the Turians themselves."

"When you have the pieces in place for the Krogan seizure of power, let me know," Thaleon said drily. "I'll be glad to help. Might be a bit of a diplomatic incident, though."

"I always knew you liked my father, Thaleon," she said wryly. "I've never seen a Salarian and Krogan hit it off like that. Damn shame."

"What? You want to have another go at it?"

"No. But why are you here, Thaleon? You don't ever show up without some kind of business, even if it's just carnal business."

"Just a little continuation of our relationship. I give you information, you let me travel with you to talk to the Turians."

"Uh-huh," Jaira said noncommittally. "And how do I know this information will be of any value? Will you be paying up-front?"

"Now, I can't give any promises as to the value," Thaleon said. "The situation is still developing. I will give you whatever I have, and if it's unimportant, it's unimportant. We're in a bit of a long-term thing here, and you know I've been good to you in the past."

"Yes, of course," Jaira said, leaning back in her chair. "You _have_ been good to me in the past."

They met each other's gaze, until Jaira couldn't hold it any longer and started snickering. That opened the floodgates for them both to start laughing, Jaira pounding her desk while Thaleon covered his mouth with his hand.

Thaleon recovered first, typically, and leaned forward onto her desk, spreading his hands onto the wood surface.

"I will give you a bit of a taste, though," he said, meeting her gaze. "This situation with the Turians is worse than Councilor Tevos knows. The Turians are doing what they can to keep it secret, but the alien colony is resisting far more strongly than any of them expected. They've taken unexpectedly high casualties, and the colony is still in resistance after more than a day. The Turians don't expect the colony to fall in less than another twenty-four hours, and it may take as much as seventy-two. The colonists have unexpected technology and tactics, and there's rumors of some kind of new, exotic weapon."

This time was Thaleon was deadly serious, dropping the innuendo, and Jaira matched, nodding to show she understood.

"Interviews with prisoners indicate that species Orion does not only does not know about the Council, but does not, in fact, have Mass Effect technology, of any kind. They could not have possibly been intentionally trying to activate the primary Mass Effect relay."

"So the Turians fucked up," Jaira said. "Except: No Mass Effect technology? How did they colonize the planet? Did they fly in the slow way? How are they even fighting the Turians?"

"That," Thaleon said, raising a digit, "is the million-credit question. Both the STG and Turians have no idea how they're doing it, and we both want to find out, and I'm sure the Asari will too, soon enough. Their military technology is extremely novel, in addition, and the Turian engineers still do not understand how their guns work."

Thaleon glanced at her, then continued:

"Now, one possible explanation for species Orion's development is their very mature AI technology. One of the big Turian secrets at the moment, even though the rumors are everywhere, involves an artificial intelligence that was found aboard an alien science station. Some idiotic grunts deleted the AI instead of trying to extract information, and Turian intelligence believes this is helping to drive the ferocity of the alien resistance, since roughly half the prisoners taken seem seriously angered by the deletion. Apparently species Orion considers their AIs to be worth defending."

"AIs? Really?" Jaira said. "Goddess, how are they—"

"They're _not_ part of the Council, Jaira," Thaleon said, narrowing his eyes. "It doesn't make sense to get angry at them for not sharing our beliefs. This whole anti-AI policy is weird anyway—regardless of past Council policy, the Council has never declared war on a race merely over a few AIs. Though, since the policy was only put in place after the creation of the Geth, there's not really any precedent to look at."

"Thaleon, come on—"

Thaleon waved his hand, indicating he still wanted to talk.

"There is one last thing. The Turian fleet reports that they are being scouted by alien probes and frigates arriving by FTL from outside the system. Their command believes that these are a precursor of the primary alien fleet, though they're keeping it secret for now, even as they bring in reinforcements from the main fleet. This little 'peacekeeping' mission could turn into a real big mess, real fast. And all because the Turians are idiots."

"Goddess, what a clusterfuck," Jaira said, looking down into her drink and wishing it were alcoholic. "I mean, I knew the Turians were going to kick the stinger hive someday, but this is like kicking the stinger hive and discovering it's actually full of Rachni."

"Yes, a clusterfuck," Thaleon said, "but for better or worse, it is our job to be as close as possible to the clusterfuck, to observe every intimate detail, and maybe even dive right in. And file a report afterward."

Jaira blinked, and Thaleon stepped back from her desk.

"Well, how was the foreplay?" he asked. "If you let me come with you, you can have some more."

Jaira sighed. Thaleon was perfectly capable of getting to the planet on his own. For something like this, there was probably an entire team going to the planet already. Wanting to come with her meant only one thing: Thaleon's job was to monitor the Asari-Turian negotiations.

But, she needed the information and the foreplay had indeed been good.

"Alright, Thaleon, you have your deal," she said, smiling lightly. "Let's hope this ends pleasantly for everyone involved."

"Indeed," Thaleon said.

The Salarian saluted smartly, and left her office.

* * *

"I don't understand you," Nadya sighed, rubbing her face in annoyance. "Nakihara-san, of all the rookies stationed here, I expected you to be the most rational one of the bunch."

Asami looked down at the ground petulantly.

"At least you didn't hurt it too badly," sighed Nadya. "I think—"

"She."

"What?"

"The alien is female," said Asami, looking up at Nadya. "Her name is Eunoe Aurelian."

Nadya frowned harder.

"I don't care what _its_ name is, or its gender," she said flatly. "It's a prisoner of war, and we need to treat her appropriately. That means we keep it isolated and don't interact with it. I appreciate the intel you've gotten for us, but we also can't afford to accidentally give it an advantage."

Asami went to speak, but then stopped. That was, of course, the rational decision. It also seemed… unkind, at best.

"I think that she deserves to at least be treated fairly," said Asami. "I— I guess that's hypocritical of me to say. But I think she deserves that at least."

Nadya sighed. "You let me handle that, Asami. You have more important things to worry about. Ryouko needs your support."

Asami bit her lip and looked over at her girlfriend. She had curled up in a corner again, staring blankly at the floor.

"Besides, have a little faith," Nadya said, smiling at Asami and clapping a hand on her shoulder. "I'm not going to try and end this by killing everything. It's just not a good idea. If we can get her back to her people, I'll try for it, okay?"

Asami looked up at Nadya, then sighed and nodded.

"Alright, Nadya. I trust you. I'm sorry for breaching protocol."

"It's alright, just don't do it again," said Nadya, given Asami a light push towards Ryouko. "Now go give your girlfriend a hug."

Nadya held back a sigh of her own as she watched Asami run over, chattering at Ryouko about something involving food. Asami was almost hopelessly optimistic. Nadya had never seen things go that well in her entire career, and didn't expect things to change now.

"Ah, such is life," she said, shaking her head, then turning and leaving to attend to other things.

* * *

"Shizuki Ryouko, is it?"

Ryouko looked up at Kyousuke Akiyama, the lieutenant from earlier. He gestured at an open spot on the boxes next to her and she nodded.

"I just felt we should get to know each other," Kyousuke said, taking a seat next to her. "You from Earth?"

"Mitakihara City," she said passively.

"Ah, I have family from there," he said. "Daddy's half, actually, though we ended up living in Toyko. Momma's from the old United States. The South, you know. Not a good place to stay during the Wars. Yeah, they're _that_ old."

"I see," Ryouko said.

It was obvious, now that she saw him outside his suit. Japanese name, but didn't look particularly Japanese. That being said, people told her sometimes they could see some a little foreigner in her. She wasn't really sure whether to believe them, though.

The man looked down.

"Sorry, I talk about myself too much sometimes. I'm trying to make small talk."

A pause.

"Look, uhh, Ryouko, I'm worried about you. I got two granddaughters about your age. Are you doing okay?"

Ryouko looked down.

"I think so," she said. "I don't think I'm as shocked as I was before. It's just—"

She paused, trying to decide how to say it.

"Since we talked to the Turian prisoner, I can't help but think about the aliens we're killing. Before, I could imagine we were getting rid of ruthless killers or evil conquerors or something. Now, though, I can't—"

Kyousuke surprised her by grabbing her by the shoulder.

"Look," he said. "The truth is y'all are too young for this kind of thing. But it's not your fault this is happening. It's the Turian government. It looks like it's not just humans that do stupid things. One way to look at it is that, in the end, the soldiers you kill were dead before you shot them. Just no one knew it yet. It's you or them, and that's just how it is."

Ryouko shook her head, looking away.

"Why is it like this, then?" she asked.

Kyousuke shrugged. "Who knows."

There was a brief pause.

"So, uh, look, I don't rightly know how to say this without being awkward," he said. "But do you want a hug? It helps with my granddaughters, when I get to see them."

Ryouko looked at the man in the eyes for a moment, then nodded, accepting the embrace.

In truth, she missed her family sometimes, stationed out here, and that need had only grown more acute after the alien attack. It was nice having Asami around, but sometimes all she could think about was her grandfather walking with her around the park, and the conversations they had.

This would be a decent substitute, she supposed.

They separated, and Kyousuke stood back up.

"Alright, well, I've got duties. I'll see you."

She nodded, then wiped her eyes the moment he turned away, to hide the few tears that had crept up.

"What was that?" Asami asked, when she appeared again a moment later with the food she had been getting them.

"Oh, nothing," Ryouko said.

* * *

They had warned Rika about this when she was first brought into the MSY. She fell into the class of telepaths for which mind-reading was actually more of a mind- _merge_ , a fact only exacerbated by most common telepathic training techniques, which tended to involve doing your best to imagine yourself being the other individual.

So she had been told to do her best to shield herself while performing a forced mind-read. That was as far as it had gone, because she hadn't ever been trained to perform interrogations, nor had she ever wanted to be. Telepaths with capabilities on that tier lived under constant surveillance—it just wasn't worth the headache.

She had gotten information from Eunoe, sure, but in doing so she had leaked far too much of herself back to the alien, and had spent far too long reliving the alien's life and memories before she could detach herself.

"You okay?" Nadya asked, clearly finding Rika's silent staring at her hands a bit disturbing.

"I'm not sure," she said, as honestly as she could. "My family is still missing. Because of that, I enjoyed killing Turians, until that interrogation. Now I can't remember my sister without overlap with this damn alien's friends too. It makes it very hard."

Rika returned to looking at her hand, trying to find the angry clarity she had once had. It had felt liberating to kill Turians, once—each blow had felt like revenge, vengeance for a family she greatly feared was dead. It kept her from having to remember what might have been lost.

Now, though, that was gone. She couldn't think that way anymore—and in its place, there was only a numbing emptiness, an abiding anger at her place in the universe.

"They're like us, you know," Rika said, when she saw that Nadya was still there. "Remarkably like us. And here we are, killing each other."

Nadya peered down at her for a moment.

"To be honest, I suspect it's precisely because they're too much like us, that we are killing each other like this," Nadya said. "Compared to the wars we have fought amongst ourselves, this is but a drop in the ocean."

The Russian knelt down next to her, speaking quietly into her ear.

"I need you, Rika. I know it affects you. Were this a more normal time, I would have sent you home to recover, with the therapists and amusements of Earth. But these are the times that try our souls, as they once said. You don't have to hate them to kill them. That soldier, that Turian, probably had no reason to hate us, but she tried to kill us anyway. Maybe you can take a little of that from her, in addition to the memories."

"You're the one who pushed me to try the interrogation," Rika said, with only a dulled sense of accusation.

"I'm sorry," Nadya said.

Nadya unfurled her hands, depositing a small set of grief cubes on the curb Rika was seated on, the amorphous black objects landing with an impossible silence.

Rika took out her soul gem, setting it next to the cubes without peering at it too carefully. She didn't really want to know.

She cracked a slight smile.

"Go into battle like a Turian soldier, huh?" she said out loud. "I think I can manage that."

* * *

The opening barrage from the aliens—the Turians, Emma reminded herself—was massive. There hadn't been much time for any fortifications, but it turned out that barrier generators made barriers that exceeded most fortifications' performance characteristics anyway.

"That's that, I guess," said one of the soldiers huddling with Emma underneath Mei Feng's barrier.

"How are you doing?" asked Emma as Mei Feng sat down heavily. The soldiers glanced at them before running off to their places along the line, infantry drones following behind.

"I need cubes _now_ ," said Mei Feng, eyes looking crazed. "I— I need— I can't—"

Emma pressed a handful of grief cubes against Mei Feng's soul gem, the crystal swirling with blackness that leaped out into the cubes.

"Agh, fuck," Mei Feng gasped, clenching a fist in the dirt of the trench a drone had cut across the front of the ICC Node. "Oh my God, that was horrible."

"Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine," Mei Feng managed, gasping and wiping at her eyes. "T-there was so much force hitting my barrier. It was like trying to hold back the ocean. I almost thought that—"

"Hey hey, chill, it's all good," said Emma, grabbing Mei Feng by the shoulder and pulling her into a quick hug. "You pulled it off, yeah?"

"Y-yeah."

"Get ready, there's more to do," said Emma. She stood and pulled Mei Feng to her feet. "We just gotta hold out."

"Right, yeah," said Mei Feng. "Thanks, Emma."

"No worries."

It was crazy how much being in combat was like being in a football game. Emma found herself doing the Team Captain thing on a constant basis, even if she was clearly not the most experienced fighter there.

But, well, you did what you needed to do. Everybody had a role to fill, and you filled that role as best you could. That's how you played football, and that's how you worked in a magical girl team. From the looks of things, that was how it worked in the Military too.

Emma wasn't sure how she felt about that. Kicking around a football wasn't even remotely the same as stabbing someone in the chest. It was true that every time Emma's team had been victorious, she'd pushed someone else one peg further down on the ladder to the top, and that they'd all signed up for the league knowing that if they failed to be the absolute best, they would end up washing out of football entirely.

But matching up against someone where you were all on an even playing field, where the sole determinator was how hard you worked and how talented you were, was one thing. Massively outclassing your opponent, to the point where they ran away screaming, was another.

Why had she done it? She remembered very clearly, as the Turians had been trying to retreat, hearing Nadya order everyone to advance and cut them off. She'd listened without questioning it. She'd zoomed up into the air, arcing over the top of the retreating column, and thrown herself down at speed into the front. Dark blue blood splashed across the ground as she had—

Emma cut off the memory with a small whimper, pressing her hands against her eyes and making spots appear. Maybe if she focused on those, she'd be able to forget what she'd done. And she had people depending on her now. Somehow she'd become some sort of leader, she couldn't spend time going over old memories like this.

"Enemy sighted!" an infantryman called out over the BattleNet. Emma blinked as the standard infantry Heads Up Display booted automatically, a host of data propagating onto her vision. Most important were the red blips appearing on her vision, as the advancing enemy was identified and relayed into the local area network.

"We've got armor!"

"Multiple fighting vehicles on the left flank!"

"I've got visual on heavy weapons!"

"Magical girls, concentrate on the armor," said Nadya. "I want melee fighters to move in and disable the gun turrets, at the very least. Barrier generators, keep to your zones and protect the infantry. Clairvoyants, keep us updated."

"All units, prepare to repulse invaders," Kyousuke intoned. "Focus your fire on keeping the enemy suppressed, we've got a good supply line. The sparklies will provide the firepower to push them back."

"Sparklies?"

"Faster to say. Be careful of any drones, and don't let them get in close," continued Kyousuke. "I want minimal casualties, understood? We can get more ammo, but not soldiers."

"This goes for us as well," Nadya said. "Unless one of you has a little sister you want to volunteer—"

The thought was so absurd that everyone giggled despite themselves. Good God, what older sister would ask her younger sister to get into this meat grinder? Impossible.

"—well good, we're all good onee-chans," said Nadya. "But that means we have no reserves. Don't take any risks. We only need to not lose this fight."

"Enemy within mortar range," reported a soldier. "Permission to fire?"

"Granted."

Emma braced as the loud -whmfzzack- of rail-launched mortars echoed from behind her. The projectiles looped high with their payloads, then detonated several meters above the heads of the enemy. Emma's magical girl hearing could pick up the shouts and screams as the explosives tore into enemy forces.

"Machine guns, watch for blue-on-blue," Kyousuke noted. "Range to armor is three kilometers."

"Magical girls, it's time to show these aliens what humanity is made of," Nadya called out over telepathy. "We have already repulsed these invaders once, and now we shall do it again."

"Two and a half."

"On your feet, girls!"

"Two kilometers."

"Go!"

Emma went over the top as automatic fire exploded out of the trenches in a single coordinated roar. The Turian soldiers immediately dropped to the ground, several catching a bullet to their shield systems but weathering the storm better than expected. The tanks and other armored vehicles were unfazed, charging forward.

Emma felt relieved. Tanks she could deal with. They didn't look at you and try to fight back.

Well they did, but it was different.

She jumped as returning fire began lancing out, rocketing upwards at speed before spinning so she was facing the sky. The clouds were sparse today, a few wisps here and there, while the sun shone brightly. The sky was a curious shade of purplish blue. Funny, Emma had never noticed it before. It had sort of just been there.

She dived, pulling down hard and accelerating into the tank column with her own column of shredding wind. The air was filled with the sound of tortured metal, magic ignoring the way physics were supposed to work and rending gaps into the metallic armor. Gun barrels skewed crazily, bent into curves. The cloud of dust she kicked up obscured her position as vortex spheres formed, hovering briefly as she spun in place and kicked them into the various targets with magical girl agility and a decade of practice.

The explosions that followed had the satisfying crump of air being displaced at ridiculous speeds, ripping through the armor and equipment to send half the column into the scrapheap.

A microsecond to collect herself and her magic, then Emma was off again. Gunfire missed her by a galactic mile as she rocketed herself upwards again, shedding vortex spheres as she went and spinning to send them in wide arcs amongst the enemy.

"Mobile artillery is setting up, location on your HUDs," Kyousuke called out. "All infantry, prepare for bombardment."

"Ryouko, grab two girls and drop them in the hot zone," Nadya ordered. "Who's available?"

"I am," Emma answered immediately as she landed inside a ditch to catch her breath and recharge.

"Same here," said Isabella, the other barrier generator on the team.

"Alright then, Ryouko?"

"I'm on my way."

There was a brief pause, and then Ryouko dropped into the ditch next to Emma with Isabella in tow, the girls crouching down to hide from incoming fire.

"Ready to go Emma?" Isabella asked. She wiped a splash of blue off her face. "How about you Ryouko?"

Ryouko shrugged. Despite everything that had happened, she was in good form. Her gem was no worse for wear, and she wasn't being asked to do anything this time, just provide transport. The less Ryouko had to look at the aliens, the better.

"I'm good," Emma said, taking in a deep breath and centering herself mentally. "Let's head out."

"Alright," Ryoko said. She reached out to the older girls and began to gather her magic. "Nadya, we're ready to go. What's the target area?"

"Transmitting now."

A mental image coalesced in Ryouko's mind. The area was open, back beyond the reach of the mortars and what limited air support the humans had. It should have been a reasonably defensible location, if a bit hastily set up, but for magical girls it was a sitting duck.

"Ready," Ryouko intoned. "Teleport in three, two, one."

They blinked into the artillery, appearing in midair to the shock and horror of the soldiers below. There was a second where Emma and Isabella coolly assessed the situation, before Emma introduced the Turians to the concept of airborne artillery.

Unfortunately, the artillery hadn't been designed for that particular application.

"Damn, Emma, remind me never to get in a no-holds-barred fight with you," Isabella muttered as they landed in the epicenter of the crater. "You provide fire power, I provide the shielding?"

"Sounds good to me," said Emma. "Looks like we're good here, Ryouko, thanks for the help."

"No problem," Ryouko said, voice strained. The distance had been a little farther than she'd realized. "I need to get back."

"Go."

Ryouko blinked into a trench, landing beside an infantryman. A small green circle hovered above his head, which switched into a triangle as he fired a volley of bullets into the attackers.

"I need to be fifty meters to the east," the soldier said without looking at Ryouko. "Let's get—"

"Wait, please," Ryouko managed through grit teeth as a headache slammed into her. She sat down and fished a few cubes out of a skirt pocket. Her gem let out a thick stream of corruption. The pressure on the back of her skull lightened, making Ryouko blink as she got unsteadily back to her feet. "Okay, okay. Fifty meters, right?"

"You going to be okay?" asked the soldier, looking alarmed.

"Don't worry about it," said Ryouko. "I'm—" _not okay, I don't want to do this, please, just get me out of here_ "—used to it. It's just fifty meters, anyway. Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Ryouko grabbed the soldier on an armor plate.

"Let's go."

A flash of green, and the soldier had been displaced. Ryouko sprayed an array of bolts through the air as the soldier reorientated.

"Thanks, I've got this from here," said the soldier, raising his weapon and sending out a thunderous stream of machine gun rounds.

"Right," said Ryouko, before blinking away to a building.

For a moment, she had quiet. Just herself, and the view below. If it weren't for the fighting, it'd be… well it'd still be a pretty bad view, but she had seen worse. The view from her bedroom in Mitakihara just caught a glimpse of the starport, with transport pipes crossing every-which-way. If she stuck her head out, she could watch the scramjets taking off, going towards Earth's equator where the space elevators were.

Ryouko swallowed and grit her teeth. She'd wished to find her place in the world. She had wanted to go and see new things, explore, and discover.

This… this wasn't what she wanted. Not death and destruction. Not…

Not at her hands.

"Incoming!"

The line bloomed in fire, explosives saturating the field with a plume of red. Green circles appeared over half the line. Ryouko went to blink in.

"Covering fire, all ranged magical girls!" Nadya shouted. "Give people a chance to recover. I want enough magic to light up the sky!"

Well Ryouko could do that. Her arbalest hummed as it sent bolts flying out, a spray of green lighting up the enemy before she—

—reappeared above the line, her old position bombarded with gunfire. Ryouko took a deep breath, aimed, and fired into a large group of Turians. Small strings extended out from her arbalest, half the bolts missing and the other half punching through upper torsos and heads. Ryouko teleported away and—

—abruptly teleported into a storage shed, feeling sick as she realized she'd instinctively teleported with half the bodies of the aliens, linked through her arbalest strings and the ground. Some part of her had recognized that she could teleport just half a person and—

—her food met the ground again, with a splattering sound. She'd _seen their internal organs._ _Why?_ Why did this have to happen? She had _done that_. _What was wrong with—?!_

"Ryouko! We need help!"

She couldn't do this. Not in the middle of a fight. Panting, Ryouko forced herself back up. She had people counting on her. The MHD could deal with her problems later. For now, she had to make sure her friends stayed alive.

"Sorry, hold on," said Ryouko, homing in on Mei Feng's location via what limited clairvoyance Ryouko possessed. She took another deep breath and—

—dived to the side, gunfire snapping past as Mei Feng and Rika made a run for friendly lines. It would have been impressive, if Ryouko had the time to observe them as they fought. Rika's spear flicked back and forth, the sun flashing off of the spearhead while Mei Feng's barrier blinked on and off. It was almost beautiful, the two moving with and around each other in a synchronized dance.

Unfortunately this meant that Ryouko was out of position. She blinked, again, trying to land next to Mei Feng this time. She reappeared in a flash of green, then stumbled to the ground. She was so tired. She just wanted to get out of here, get away from the fighting.

She wanted her mother.

"You okay?" asked Mei Feng. Her barrier shimmered as Rika pulled her spear out of a dying Turian.

"My gem," Ryouko mumbled, fishing for a grief cube sluggishly. "I— I need to clean my gem."

"Fuck," Mei Feng muttered, dropping to her knees beside Ryouko and pulling out a handful of grief cubes. "Where's your gem?"

"Neck," Ryouko said, pulling at its emplacement. The gem came off with a small click, clouded over with black corruption and getting darker as the seconds passed.

Mei Feng blanched and pulled Ryouko's hand towards her. "Fuck fuck fuck Ryouko don't you fucking die on me."

"What is going on?" Rika asked, skidding over. "We have to make a move!"

"She's spiraling, give us a moment!" Mei Feng snapped back. Rika bit back a frustrated noise and ducked, then jumped away again to keep a group of infantry from encircling them. Ryouko's gem slowly lightened under the combined draw of two handfuls of grief seeds. "Ryouko. Ryouko!"

Ryouko blinked, looking up at Mei Feng.

"Ryouko, you have to calm down," Mei Feng said, looking Ryouko in the eyes. "You— I don't know what you saw, but you have to calm down and work through the situation. Everything is going to be okay."

"I killed them though," Ryouko said blankly, a tear running down her cheek. "I… I killed them."

"Ryouko, Ryouko listen to me," said Mei Feng. "We have—"

"We can't stay here!" Rika shouted from across the way. "The number of aliens is increasing! Is she ready to go yet?!"

"What part of give us a moment don't you understand?!" Mei Feng yelled back. She turned back to Ryouko. "Listen to me Ryouko! We have to get out of here. If we can get out of here, everything will be okay, you understand me? It's going to be alright."

"J-just get us out, right?" asked Ryouko. Her gem sparked twice, lightening some more.

"Yeah, you just need to get us out of here," said Mei Feng. "It's going to be alright."

"R-right, yeah," said Ryouko, getting unsteadily to her feet. "Yeah sorry, let's go."

"Finally," said Rika. She jumped, landing a few feet away. "Come on, come on, let's go!"

"Grab on!" Ryouko said, holding out her hand. Rika ran over, grabbing onto Ryouko's hand tightly, while Mei Feng grasped a shoulder. "Alright, go—"

It happened too quickly for Ryouko to think. She felt Rika's grip slacken, trying to jump away. Her instincts shouted out a warning, making her duck for the ground. Next to her she caught a glimpse of Mei Feng flinching back as well.

The next thing Ryouko knew she was on the ground, something wet across her face. She breathed in, the smell of iron filling her nose. She breathed out, looking up from the ground and across to where Rika had been.

"O-oh God."

"Get up Ryouko!" Mei Feng shouted. Ryouko felt a hand grab her by the arm and haul her up, towards the body.

"No!"

"God damn it Ryouko we have to leave!"

"No no nonononono—"

"RYOUKO!"

Ryouko looked at Mei Feng. The older girl was fighting back tears, the gem pinned into her hair swirling with corruption.

"We have to take her body back," Mei Feng said, still pulling Ryouko along. "We need you. One last teleport, Ryouko, that's all. Please."

One last teleport.

Ryouko pushed herself up, running. She dropped to her knees by Rika's remains, ignoring as best she could the warm, sticky blood pooling onto the soil. Mei Feng grabbed onto Ryouko's shoulder.

They disappeared in another flash of green.

* * *

"Do you think it was a good idea to let the Turian go in the bathroom stall on her own?" one of the soldiers standing outside asked.

"What is she going to do? Escape down the toilet? Relax, man, we're the ones with the guns and armor. Last thing I want to do is voyeur on a female alien taking a dump. Also, turn off your translator before talking, idiot."

"You haven't turned yours off."

"Eh, she can hear this conversation if she wants to. I'm just saying in general, you should turn it off."

Eunoe was, in fact, done, and was grateful—slightly—that the alien guards had seen fit to grant her a little privacy.

But she had little desire to go back to the closet they had locked her in, even if they had untied her from the chair. There was no hope of escape—not when the only way was through a door with two guards stationed on both sides, both of them wearing the monstrous armor these aliens seemed to prefer to use in combat. The other Turians would have to break her out, if it came to that.

She stood up, finishing her business.

"I'm done here," she said, making sure to sound angry since, well, she was.

The two guards led her back out into the hallway, one in front, one behind.

A moment later, the one in front stopped.

"Is something wrong?" the one behind Eunoe asked.

Eunoe craned her head to see—then promptly wished she hadn't.

It was the girl who had done the Asari-like mind meld with her. She lay on the floor with a grievous head wound and missing a leg, red with the odd-colored blood of this species.

Eunoe felt herself start to retch and held it down, barely. She knew mortal wounds when she saw them, and while the missing leg was survivable, the head wound… wasn't.

 _I'm sorry_ , she thought, knowing she would have to cry once she was locked back in the closet.

"Stop gawking!" the guard behind her, shoving her forward with a painful jab from his rifle. "It's your kind that brought this on us!"

Eunoe staggered forward towards the doorway, reeling, until the door opened and the other physically flung her back into the room.

She landed on the floor as the door slid closed behind her, putting her in the dark again.

 _I'm sorry_ , she thought again.

* * *

"I want you to remember two things from this, if nothing else, Ryouko-chan. First, what happened is not your fault. Second, Rika-chan will be fine. I heard from Nadya herself. With intervention from a healer, magical girls have recovered from far worse, just from hunting demons. It could happen to any of us."

Ryouko sat silently, not sure what to say to the MHD therapist's words, beamed from far-away certainly couldn't say what she was thinking, which oscillated between "That doesn't really help." and "You're not even here! You wouldn't understand."

The therapist met her eyes for a moment.

"Remember the calmness exercises we were practicing. I sent you a packet—try to do them whenever you have free time, okay? Check in with me when you can. I'll have Asami-chan nag you, if nothing else. Now I have a special guest for you."

"Special guest?" Ryouko asked.

The therapist smiled slightly and shook her head.

"It's a surprise," she said.

A moment later, the virtual screen in front of her shifted, displaying what looked like the inside of a starship rather than an office.

It took Ryouko a moment to focus her eyes, and then she had to stop herself from squealing.

She could probably have drawn Clarisse van Rossum's face from memory at this point. Little known outside the magical girl community, Clarisse was a legend within it. Rumors said she was the oldest living magical girl, and while this had never been confirmed, it certainly seemed plausible, given that she had contracted just before the sinking of the Titanic. Her MSY orientation mentor, a Clarisse fan herself, had introduced her life story to Ryouko, and it had only taken a week for Ryouko to fall head over heels in fangirl love.

Ryouko had watched all the movies about her at least three times now, and she knew Asami was dead sick of hearing about her.

"Hi there, Ryouko-chan," Clarisse said, smiling winningly at her. "I've heard you've been brave out there. I'm proud of you."

It was a statement obviously tailored to flatter, but it worked on Ryouko nonetheless, and she blushed deeply. It was true, what they said—even though Clarisse wasn't dropdead gorgeous, she had a certain _presence_ that convinced you into thinking she was.

"N-not as brave as you," Ryouko managed. "I mean, the Titanic and then having to survive on your own—"

Ryouko flushed again, biting her lip. She shouldn't have brought it up.

"I didn't have to kill anyone, Ryouko-chan," Clarisse said. "Not until I was much older. You have. Trust me; what you've had to endure is more than comparable."

Ryouko knew the statement should have crushed her mood, but the way Clarisse said it was so smoothly reassuring that Ryouko was almost more pleased by the last sentence than disturbed by the reference.

"Ryouko-chan, I've seen your file," Clarisse said. "They tell me you're one of my biggest fans. I'm flattered, and I'd love to meet you someday, but you need to know: I'm not some kind of goddess, or even close to one. I'm just a magical girl, like you, and once, far too long ago, I wasn't that different from you."

Clarisse met her eyes again, making sure she was following.

"The movies glamorize the things I've done, but at the time I did them, they didn't feel glamorous, not at all. You've seen _World at War_?"

"Of course," Ryouko breathed. "It's one of my favorites. I can't say I cared at all for the early 20th century before I saw it."

"It's a fairly accurate movie, based on parts of my autobiography. For many of the older magical girls it's hard to believe, but I managed to avoid directly killing anyone for nearly half a decade after my contract. There were times I maybe should have, but I never did. But then the First World War came."

"Yes," Ryouko echoed. "The German soldier in Belgium, trying to rape a farm girl."

"What the movie doesn't cover is that I felt sick for weeks afterward," Clarisse said. "I had the best possible justification, and still I felt sick. Like you have."

Ryouko nodded, slowly, feeling the tears welling up again, but not wanting to show them.

"It was worse during the next war," Clarisse said. "I don't have to go over the atrocities. I killed and killed and killed, and nothing changed. I grew sick of it. The movie made me a hero, but you know what? I didn't feel like a hero. I was just trying to live my life so I could look at myself in the mirror in the morning. Most days, I couldn't."

Clarisse met Ryouko's gaze again.

"The point is," Clarisse said. "Don't feel like you're letting anyone down, or that you're not cut out for it. When I was your age, I was overwhelmed all the time. I've had friends die on me, because I didn't know how to cover them. And I never felt like a hero for killing those soldiers. I felt like a monster."

Clarisse leaned back, away from the virtual screen.

"Hold up your chin up high, Ryouko-chan," she said. "You have nothing to be ashamed about. These 'Turians' are here to attack your home and your friends, just like the Germans did so long ago. There's nothing you can do except what you have to. The fact that you have to kill these aliens was imposed on you. It's not your moral responsibility. Grit your teeth if you have to. The goal is to live through this, for your family, and Asami-chan. And me, too."

Ryouko bit her lip again, this time in emotion, trying to nod along.

"I'm trying to make my way to the planet now," Clarisse said. "It's dangerous, but I've finally got a decent ship, so I'll see if I can manage it. Either way, I'll see you after you make it through this. And give my regards to Rika-chan when she's healed. Thumbs up."

Clarisse raised her hand in the indicated gesture, and Ryouko reciprocated.

"I'll see you, then," Clarisse said.

"See you."

* * *

Evening fell with cautious silence. The guns stilled, drones landed, and both sides dug deeper into their trenches to await the morning. The word had gotten out to take the opportunity the aliens were giving them to fortify their positions. The goal was to stall for the arrival of the fleet, so there probably wasn't a reason to turn down a free lull in the battle.

Probably. It wasn't certain that it was the best decision, but they needed the break.

Emma shuffled tiredly forward in the food line. She'd untransformed after it became clear that she wouldn't be needed within the next ten minutes, and slightly regretted it. Truth be told, her costume was pretty fantastically comfortable, providing support in critical locations for when you were doing a backflip. Now that there was a lull in the fighting, that wasn't as critical, but it was still nice.

"Hey sparkles, how're you holdin' up?" asked the soldier standing behind her.

Emma turned slightly to look at the soldier. The woman had red hair, cut short to her shoulders, and had left her armor off to the side while getting food. Her name, according to Emma's nomenclator, was Annalise Shepard.

"I'm alright, I guess," said Emma.

"I saw you kicking some ass out there," said Annalise. "It was good work."

Emma swallowed. "Ah, thanks?"

"Seriously, it helped a lot," said the soldier. She gestured that the line had moved. Emma shuffled forward again. "We'd have been rolled over by the armor if it weren't for you."

Emma blinked, then nodded. "I'm glad. It's hard."

"Fighting, you mean?"

"Yeah."

Annalise nodded. "It's your turn at the synthesizer."

Emma turned to the machine and pondered what to eat. She was reminded of an Indian restaurant that her team went to after games back in London, for some reason. It wasn't what you'd call traditional, but chicken tikka masala sounded compelling.

"I just wish it didn't come to this," Emma said quietly as she waited for the machine to finish. "Why didn't they negotiate? They're clearly sentient and rational."

Annalise sighed behind her.

"I do too," she agreed as Emma picked up her food and stood to the side to wait. "But we can't dictate who we fight, only the terms of their surrender. D'you think beef bourguignon or spare ribs?"

Emma snorted. Surrender terms would be nice, though she honestly wasn't sure that was achievable. "Bourguignon I think."

"Hm, okay then," said Annalise. "You're from Earth right? What's Mitakihara like?"

"Um, not that different from New York, I think," said Emma, glancing at her nomenclator and what it told her about Annalise's hometown. "Lots of chuens to hang out in, lots of towers?"

"Nah, New York's way more fun than that," said Annalise, picking up her food and gesturing for Emma to follow her. "Broadway's great."

"You watch that stuff?" asked Emma, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "I mean, London's West End has some good plays, but it's all kinda outdated don't you think?"

Annalise gave Emma a sad headshake. "It's just not the same as a vid. They do completely different things. And acoustics are so important to a show, and you can't really simulate that."

Privately, Emma was fairly sure that Annalise was crazy, but the look in the soldier's eyes made it clear that further discussion was going to end in a fistfight.

"Well I'll take your word for it," said Emma. "I'll try and see a show if I get back to Earth."

" _When_ , sparkles," said Annalise, giving Emma a friendly shoulder nudge as they neared a group of soldiers sitting beside their armor to eat. "It's not like we're all doomed."

"Hey Sarge, you bein' yer usual cheery self?" asked one of the soldiers as they walked up. "Don't mind her, sparklebutt, the Sarge's always like this."

"What's with all the different nicknames?" asked Emma.

"Well, 'magical girl' just sounds weird,' said Annalise.

"Takes too long to say too," said one of the other soldiers.

"So 'sparkly' is what you're gonna be," said a fourth man, nodding and waving his fork. "And every variation thereof."

"My name works too, you know," said Emma, frowning as she sat down next to them.

"Naah, 'sparkly' is better," said Annalise. "Though hm, that applies to everyone else too."

The group fell silent as they seriously considered how to give Emma a nickname.

"Ah, we'll call you 'Bluebird'," said a soldier.

"I like it," said another.

"Well then, it's decided," said Annalise, whacking Emma on the shoulder. "Welcome little Bluebird to Second Platoon!"

"That— that's not how that works!' Emma protested.

"That's totally how that works, Bluebird," said Annalise, scooping up a bite of meat. "Now eat your damn chicken."


	3. Contact Inhibition

It was a quirk of fate that the phoenix held representation in the mythologies of every known sentient race. Universally, it was some sort of avian, or at least flying, creature. Typically portrayed with outstretched, occasionally stylized, wings, as well as a long, trailing tail, the Phoenix was invariably associated with light and immortality.

There were local variations, of course. The Asari version was light blue and wreathed in a small, shimmering corona, with a tail of many parts, coiling in and around itself in a long train while it flew on thin, gossamer wings. Conversely, the Quarian version was a blindingly bright red, its center burning white-hot as it flew on outstretched wings that spanned the horizon, and its tail of fire trailed across the night sky.

The magical powers associated with the phoenix had strange similarities as well. Inevitably, there was some sort of way that the phoenix would die, then rise again. Inevitably, it was associated with wisdom and knowledge. It was always benevolent, and bestowed blessings upon those that helped it.

Inevitably, the Phoenix brought hope.

This made it the first thing many turned to when the time came to name a new organization that united all magical girls across the galaxy. The Phoenix Foundation was founded as a benevolent body, one that would seek to maintain the secrecy, peace, and order necessary for magical girls to gain the experience they needed to thrive. It was a massive undertaking.

TranStar Lines was a shell corporation run by the Phoenix Foundation. Nominally, it was a shipping and passenger transport business, funneling goods and persons from system to system. Those who were loyal to TSL could, eventually, apply for membership to the Starburst Society. Many benefits accrued from such membership, including access to lounge facilities and complimentary gifts of varying utility.

Adrea Sabudri turned her Starburst Society Membership Card over and over between her talons as she sat at her desk and ignored the growing list of reports flowing into her tablet from the planet below. Her ship was in orbit, her job one that required her to actively stay out of combat. As military billets went, hers was a cushy one, and important to boot. No army could fight if it wasn't supplied, and despite the mudslinging the combat battalions liked to toss their way, nobody was under any illusions about just how critical the 10th Logistics Legion was to continued military operations in any and all scenarios.

The card dropped to the desktop with a quiet clatter, the dense polymer square bouncing twice before settling with a rattle. Adrea flicked it away to the corner of her desk in disgust, before reaching into a drawer and pulling out a bottle of Ephivras. A glass followed it, and was quickly filled with the aromatic liquid.

What, exactly, was the point of being a magical girl when all you could do was sit and watch as others died around you? Three hundred years, now, she had lived, and gone through many a lifetime by way of magic and showmanship. Three hundred years of living, and dying, and becoming youthful again in order to blend in, and watching as the people she knew grew old and sickly, or fell in the line of battle from some border conflict, or vanished in the never-ending quest for grief cubes.

She had grown to like Eunoe. So young, so innocent—she had quietly guided the girl through difficult parts of her life, and had come to think of herself as a bit of a mentor, even if she had constantly feigned being no more than a friend.

That was over now, and Eunoe was dead. Another one turned to dust, and only the alcohol kept her drink from tasting like ashes in her mouth.

Adrea drained half the glass in one gulp. It was times like these where she seriously began to consider dropping the entire thing and coming clean with the galaxy about magical girls. Maybe then, without being constrained by the need for secrecy, they could actually _do_ something. Maybe then, people wouldn't die. Wouldn't die needlessly at the whims of whoever happened to be in power at the time.

A stupid, stupid plan on multiple levels, to be sure, but it was still tempting.

There had been breaches of secrecy in the past, of course. The most egregious had come in times of great duress. The Rachni attacks on Thessea, the Krogans hurling asteroids at Turian worlds, the Krogan Genophage, and, most recently, the Quarians being evicted from their home planet—there was no overstating the threats to the current order they had presented. Yet in the end, the desperate actions of those with nothing to lose had been successfully buried under a tide of obfuscation, lost surveillance, and, occasionally, the silencing of witnesses. But always, there was a temptation for some to let those actions come to light. To sit back and let it happen, with some damage control, and end this Masquerade.

But no, the Secret must be kept. Apart from the Incubators demanding it to be so, by this point in galactic history, too much depended on that secrecy. Much of the Phoenix Foundation's logistical infrastructure was founded off it, as well as internal policies and regulations. Not to mention the agents that saturated high-level political and economic positions across the galaxy. Breaking it risked upsetting the balance of the entire galaxy, a balance that had to be kept oh-so-carefully in place to avoid the near certainty of galactic open war.

Nobody wanted that. Phoenix Foundation political economics estimated that the integrity of the Secret was worth as much to galactic stability and prosperity as half of the Turian peacekeeping fleet.

Species Orion, though, threatened to destroy everything the Phoenix Foundation had tried to maintain.

Battlefield information was, of course, spotty at best, but Adrea didn't need to read the reports in detail to recognize the flash of magic when she saw it. Whether it was from lone groups striking out to defend their homes, or if the Secret had already been broken for Species Orion and their magical girls had been conscripted into the military, was impossible to discern.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. The intelligence was being filtered up to High Command as Adrea sat there, drinking. For now, it was easily obfuscated as just alien technology, possibly a super weapon of some kind. But unless the situation was resolved quickly, there was no way that suspicions would not arise.

No it was times like these that made Adrea seriously consider tossing caution to the winds. It was easily possible that any exposure of the Secret would send the entire offensive, already faltering, into a screeching halt. Just revealing it would throw High Command into chaos, and who knew what would happen if some magical girls took some kind of actual action? It would buy them time. Time to negotiate with Species Orion and try to prevent the catastrophic destruction of the order and peace the Council, and by extension the Phoenix Foundation, had created all these centuries.

It was also guaranteed to not go well, but if all else failed, what other choices did they have?

It was a disastrous conundrum, to be sure, and Adrea expected her superiors in the Foundation were debating the question hotly right now. Ambassadors were already speeding in on the fastest ships that could carry them, but….

Adrea sighed and downed the remainder of her glass, then poured another. Damn that Legate Septimus and damn the other hotheads who refused to use any solution other than violence. This bloodying of Turian pride—indeed the possible failure of the expedition altogether—was inevitable. The fact that nobody seemed to have realized this only meant that the Turian Mages did not have as much control over their government as the Asari Mages did. It was now coming back to bite them.

A moment later, she sucked in a long breath, and reached into her drawer, withdrawing a small set of small, pitch-black cubes. She placed her hand next to them and sighed as a weight lifted from the back of her mind.

It was all well and good for her to sit here, drinking, but the reality of the situation was that she had work to do. She knew full well what her strengths were, and she wasn't about to muck up the situation for the Foundation's negotiators. There was only one recourse.

 _Back to work,_ she thought.

* * *

It seemed to Emma that what Ryouko really needed was a drink and a good bawling session.

That wasn't facetious. It worried her that Ryouko had become withdrawn and quiet over the last day. A session with an MHD counselor should have happened already, but, well, that would have limited utility. Counselors could tell you many things, but that didn't make you believe them. It really took someone that you trusted confirming all of that for anything to sink in.

And, well, drinking and bawling had always worked for Emma, at least.

Emma sighed, standing in front of the synthesizer. Dinner had ended, as well as the day. The Turians were evidently pulling back to lick their wounds. Annalise had said that there probably wouldn't be more than a few skirmishes between patrols and the drone net. An unspoken decision had gone down the line, sending the magical girls back to the command center. There wasn't any need for them to be on watch.

The synthesizer beeped, then clunked. Emma sighed again as she reached in and pulled out a bottle of umeshu, two small glasses shrink-wrapped onto the side. The magical girls had all gathered in the IIC node after the first fight with the Turian patrol, so it seemed likely that everyone would be there again.

Emma walked back towards the IIC Node, passing a few drone sentries on the way.

Military and civilian life had strange similarities. Risk of violent death and dismemberment aside, a shocking amount of time in the military boiled down to waiting. You spent that time studiously avoiding any work of any sort, and chatted about the latest workplace gossip.

Okay, so it was chatting about workplace gossip while bullets impacted the dirt berm behind you and, afterwards, you all went and stuffed your faces under the watchful eye of a variety of drone sentries.

The freakiest thing, though, was how everyone in a unit knew where everyone else was. It was some sort of implant suite that fed the location of everyone in your unit into the back of your head. It was a bit like the soul-gem sense you developed after a few years as a magical girl, but Emma couldn't help but feel slightly creeped out.

Still, it was useful, and since literally the entire group worked in close intimacy with programming languages, it hadn't taken long for a bodged-together version to be installed on all their implant sets.

Emma found Ryouko and Asami's location trackers practically on top of each other in a small, former office. The tile floor leading up to the wood-paneled door was oddly pristine, save for a pair of footprints leading to the room. Emma glanced out a window at the brightly lit courtyard, torn by explosives and pockmarked with bullet holes.

She shook her head. This was some crazy shit they were in.

Emma paused in front of the door, considering her next move. Part of her fervently hoped the pair weren't… busy.

Another part of her kind of hoped they were, because, seriously, the _blackmail_.

Chuckling to herself, Emma paused, then knocked on the door twice. When the trackers didn't move, Emma opened the door.

Thankfully, she found Ryouko and Asami seated quietly on two office chairs, the latter brushing the former's hair with… well, her own hair. It was undoubtedly an intimate gesture, and the two girls jolted away from each other at Emma's approach, but they weren't, among other things, unclothed.

"Did you not hear the knocking then?" asked Emma, raising an eyebrow.

"We were busy, obviously," Ryouko said with a displeased expression. "What do you want?"

Emma briefly regretted interrupting them. Besides drinking, a tumble in the sheets could also serve as good therapy. But, well, there wasn't much of a way to know without straight up interrupting, and she brought a peace offering in the form of alcohol.

"Sorry, but I bring a peace offering," said Emma, raising the bottle and glasses. "In the form of alcohol. Umeshu, in this case."

The two girls took the glasses from her freely, Ryouko rolling her eyes as she did so, allowing Emma to get to work on opening the bottle.

Good, it seemed the girl was recovering a little. The attitude was coming back.

"You know," she said. "You two are young, so your detox controls are still in place. I've got some code that can turn those off, if you want to try it out. Could be fun."

"I'm fine, thanks," Ryouko said. "I'd rather keep control of my faculties near you."

"Should you really be encouraging underage intoxication?" Asami echoed.

"Well, I figure it's not that bad," said Emma, waving the bottle around descriptively. "Considering you two are also engaged in other types of, shall we say, underage fun, it seems reasonable that—"

Emma ducked a shoe from an absolutely scarlet Ryouko, Asami groaning and hiding her face in her girlfriend's hair.

"Dammit Emma!"

"Hehehe, I'm just sayin'~" Emma trilled, before perching on the edge of the desk.

There was a moment of quiet as Emma gestured with the bottle and, a trifle grudgingly, Ryouko and Asami offered their glasses. The umeshu was poured silently.

"So, how are you guys doing, really?" asked Emma. She flipped her controls off and took a sip of the sweet, fruity liquor.

Hmm… she should really get a custom recipe for this. The synthesizer made it too sweet for her liking.

"I'm not sure what you mean?" Ryouko said, turning the statement into a question. "Our relationship is fine if that's what you're wondering. We don't need any more 'advice' books."

Emma rolled her eyes. "I can see that, yes. What I mean is…"

She sighed. Time to kill the mood.

"…What I mean is, I… well, it's been… difficult. I've been worried about you guys."

The mood indeed dampened, as both Asami and Ryouko seemed to deflate slightly. It was clear that in each other they had found solace, and distraction—a way to forget about the past few days, just for a while.

"Well, I think I'm mostly alright now," Ryouko said. "I was… really out of it for a while. But, I had a nice chat with the therapist, and they even got one of my, uh, favorite celebrities to give a pep talk. It really shouldn't have worked, but it did."

"Who was it?" asked Emma. She took another sip of wine, then realized she was out and poured more.

"Clarisse van Rossum. Have you heard of her?"

"You spoke to Clarisse van Rossum?!" said Emma, eyebrows shooting up. "How the hell did you manage that?!"

Ryouko's eyes widened, taken aback by Emma's reaction.

"I didn't 'manage' anything! The therapist was the one who arranged the talk."

"Yeah but I don't get to talk to her!" Emma said, waving the bottle before hurriedly catching the slosh with her cup. "Like, holy shit, I'm not even a fangirl but it's _Clarisse van Rossum_!"

"Well, you get yourself traumatized enough for them to get a fancy counselor from Earth and then we'll see," Ryouko said, with more than a little snap.

Emma winced and recoiled. "I— sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"It's okay," Ryouko said. "I'm sorry."

Asami gave Ryouko an odd look, and Emma could see in her eyes that she was worried. Something was different about Ryouko, just a little.

"Well, I guess you'll get your chance to see Clarisse soon enough," Asami said, turning back towards Emma. "She claims she's on her way here, though I don't know how she expects not to get shot down by aliens."

Emma visibly flinched as she found herself conflicted. Clarisse van Rossum showing up was cause for some fairly loud celebration. The number of reasons was fairly high, but the upshot of it was that things were looking up if Clarisse was arriving.

On the other hand, Ryouko was… well that retort had been out of character, even for Ryouko. The two of them snarked at each other all the time, but…

"I guess, yeah," said Emma. She drank more wine, then realized she'd reached the end of her cup _again_. "Here uh, Asami, you hold the bottle. I'm drinking too fast."

The silence stretched on for a long moment, the three girls staring into their respective cups. What else was there to say? They all knew what was going on, but none of them knew the trick to feeling better about it.

"Well, you know," Asami said. "I think the Turians might not be so bad. They've just been ordered to invade this colony for some stupid political reason. The actual soldiers are just normal people. Like us. Though they're terrified of AIs for some reason."

"Hnm," Emma grunted, swallowing. She knew very well that the Turians were just normal people. She'd been stabbing them in the chest all morning. "The random terror thing is stupid."

"Apparently they have a lot of bad history with AIs. There was a race called the Quarians that had to flee their own homeworld due to crafting dangerous, rogue AIs. Apparently, they never figured out Volokhov's formulas."

"Well, you know the story behind Volokhov's formulas," said Emma, shrugging. "Maybe they don't have magical girls of their own? How do you know all this anyway?"

"Oh, I've been, uh, talking to our prisoner. Participating in our interrogations. She's been a lot more willing to talk, after I got to know her. Still won't tell us anything actually useful for combat, though."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "You know, somehow, I don't feel like Nadya would have approved of that."

"Oh, she did," Asami said. "She said I've been very helpful."

"…after you snuck in and beat up the prisoner, and then you two bonded or something like that," Ryouko commented.

"Don't tell her that!" Asami said. "I swear, you're jealous of Eunoe or something."

"I am _not_ jealous of a Turian."

"This was before the soldiers showed up?" asked Emma, raising her eyebrow and waving for more wine. "Tell me more, it sounds interesting."

Asami shrugged.

"It's not that interesting. I was just… curious how they could do that to poor Abigail, and I was a little angry, and then the Turian apologized. It's not like she did the deleting—it's just they're terrified of AIs. They seem to think AIs will kill everyone."

"Yeah, about that," Ryouko interjected. "You know, it's occurred to me: Governance is mostly AIs. How are they going to respond to that?"

Asami opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, then gaped slightly.

"I did not think of that," she said.

Emma grimaced, then waggled her fingers at the wine bottle to tip alcohol into her cup.

Silence descended as they considered the situation.

"I guess we'll just have to win," Emma said eventually. "I mean, can you see any other way out of this? We have to stand our ground and push them back, otherwise they'll just steamroll over us and try to destroy everything."

"I'm not sure that's going to solve anything, in the big picture," Ryouko says. "Obviously, for our sakes, we'd prefer to win, but if they're _that_ scared of AIs, I could see them turning this war into something much bigger, once they understand what Governance is."

"So we'll have to kill them harder? I dunno," said Emma morosely. "I don't want to fight this war. It's stupid. But I don't want Humanity to get stomped because some jackass is afraid of us. We've a right to live our own lives."

"That's not really a solution. That's basically just saying 'Humanity, fuck yeah!'" Ryouko said, shaking her head. "I mean, I get where you're coming from, but we have to try to think about what might happen in the future."

"It's pointless to just guess like this," Asami said. "If we really want to know how things will turn out, Eunoe is probably the best person to ask."

"The Turian?" Emma asked. "That's—"

She paused.

"…that's not a bad idea actually," said Emma thoughtfully. "Ryouko, could you maybe teleport us into where she's being held?"

"You want to talk to the Turian?" Ryouko said. "Are you trying to sneak around the guards and Nadya? How are you going to stop them from hearing us?"

Emma shook her head.

"We could just text her?"

"She has no implants," Asami said. "Look, just ask to be on the next questioning session if you want to talk to her. I can probably talk Nadya into it."

Emma reached again for her wine cup, but found that Ryouko had taken it away.

"Awww, come on," she said, reaching forward. "I'm not that—"

She found herself grasping the edge of the table, and realized her balance was more shot than she thought it was.

Emma gulped, turning her intoxication controls back on. Ordinarily, she would have considered sleeping it off, but that probably wasn't a good idea in a situation where she might be in combat at any time. She felt Ryouko and Asami's eyes on her, and realized that they weren't likely to think of her as "senpai" anytime soon.

"Yeah, I, uh, guess I'll just join the next questioning session, then."

* * *

Despite her most fervent wishes for juvenile delinquency, Emma had good senpais while she was in school. She'd only been able to sneak a drink once, using a bit of software she'd downloaded from a forum. It'd been a very good drink, or at least she remembered it fondly. Or she thought she remembered. She'd also downloaded a hack to turn off her intoxication filters, so things were a little hazy. In the end, Emma had been caught quite quickly and handily.

However, Emma had never actually deleted the software, since peer-to-peer sharing was the business of the peers in question. While corporate life was not really all that comparable to being in a war, certain parallels existed. Standing, now, in front of the door to the Turian prisoner, this was clearly a situation where more alcohol was needed.

"Okay, so before we go in, there are some things you need to know," said Asami. "The standard protocol has been sent to you already, so…"

Emma bit back a sigh as she scrolled through the list of biological protocols used to prevent bias in an experiment. This list, in particular, made her pine for the bottle of umeshu, disposed of via rubbish bin.

"Look, Asami, uh," said Emma, "yes it's important to prevent this stuff, but are you sure it's applicable?"

"Well…" Asami looked away, rubbing her arm. "I guess it's not totally useful, but the general idea is valid."

"Yeah, that's true," said Emma. She looked down at her shoes. She was untransformed, as was Asami.

It'd have been nice to be in costume. It felt… safer.

"Anyway, let's go in," said Asami with a nod. "Since I know her better, I'll take the lead?"

"Yeah, good idea."

The closet that Eunoe had been stored inside of was somewhat unusually spacious. It was large enough to hold three cleaning drones, stacked atop each other in their recharge/resupply cradle. This, and a few bottles of cleaning supplies, had been stripped out of the room when Eunoe was pulled in, but the grommets for the cradle hadn't been ripped out of the wall completely.

Asami poked her head through the door.

"Ah, hey, Eunoe?" said Asami. "Can we come in?"

Eunoe waved at her from the back, where she had sat down against the wall. "Well I'm the prisoner here. Can't really stop you."

"Oh, well, it, um, seemed polite," said Asami. She opened the door more fully. "Ah, this is my friend, Emma."

"Hello," said Emma, nodding at the Turian. It was… odd, seeing one like this. The alien was almost lounging, though its armor didn't really make it possible to really relax. The armor was the standard dark metal, matte to keep from being too reflective and glowing where indicator lights for systems were placed in the exterior. A layer of foliage-coloration had been applied over the top, allowing the Turian to blend in more inside a forest.

"Emma, this is Eunoe," said Asami, gesturing. "She uh… well, I don't actually know any personal information, Eunoe. Are you allowed to tell us anything?"

"Well, there's my serial number," said Eunoe. "But technically, no. It's something about psychological leverage."

"Why are you talking then?" asked Emma.

Eunoe went very quiet for a moment. "I… I decided that it wasn't worth it."

Emma let the topic drop. She didn't want to talk about it much herself.

"So, uh, in that case, can you tell us more about yourself?" asked Asami. She sat down in front of Eunoe, cross-legged, and fixed her with an attentive look. "Where are you from? What's your family like?"

Eunoe turned her head slightly, closing her eyes for a moment to think. She clasped her hands behind her back, a gesture that Asami was beginning to realize Turians must do frequently.

"I'm from Palaven. That's, uh, the Turian capital world. My parents are scientists. The quiet sort. They weren't exactly happy when I joined the infantry, but, you know, I wanted to make a difference. I don't have any siblings."

"Ooh, what sort of science do they do?" asked Asami.

"They're physicists," Eunoe said. "Mostly work with mass effect stuff. Nothing I know much about."

"Ah, fair enough," said Asami. "Hm, well, what about Palaven? What's it like there? I assume the world is divided into administrative sections? How does that work?"

"I'd rather not talk about that, if you don't mind," Eunoe said.

Asami sighed, but tried again. "Not even about, like, the food?"

Eunoe shrugged.

"I honestly wouldn't know where to start, or how to explain it to you. Do you think you could summarize the food of your home planet in a few sentences? Lots of variety. That being said, the thing I think I miss the most are my home district's sausages. We're famous for them, and none of the colony worlds really match up."

She looked down for a second.

"You know, I was wondering, is your species a dextro or levo-amino acid species? I was thinking dextro, since I've been eating the food you've been giving me no problem, but I wasn't sure."

Emma blinked, then looked at Asami. "What's—?"

"Well, this planet happens to be a dextro biosphere," Asami said before Emma could finish, "and the analysis of the foods your squad was carrying suggested dextro was fine, so we just gave you that. For what it's worth, we can eat both. We're natively levo, but when you're colonizing planets and running an interstellar economy, it's easiest if you just make sure everyone can eat both."

Emma shifted nervously.

 _Is this really the thing to be discussing with her?_ she thought.

Eunoe's mouth hung open for a moment, giving Asami and Emma an excellent view of the alien's odd mandibles.

"Your species can do that?" Eunoe said finally, with obvious astonishment. "You're not bullshitting me?"

"Yes," Asami said, with a trace of deliberate pride. "It's technology we might have considered sharing if, you know, you had come in peace."

Emma turned towards Asami, shooting a thought:

 _You know, the implants might take some time to transfer to Turian physiology, if Governance would really be willing to share it, if these Turians are okay with implants—_

 _I'm just impressing her,_ Asami thought back. _Get with the program._

Eunoe looked down at the floor, seeming to think for a moment.

"You probably have no idea how much that would revolutionize the galactic economy," she said. "Just the increased food tourism alone would make a Volus have an orgasm. If you'll excuse my language, I guess."

The group shared a moment of levity. Emma had no idea what a "volus" was, but the idea of tourism giving _anything_ an orgasm was hilarious.

A pause, then Emma cleared her throat.

"To change the topic, you mentioned earlier that this Galactic Council has banned AIs," said Emma. " We haven't really mentioned it to you before, because we hadn't gotten permission to tell you. What do you think would be your Council's reaction if they were to learn that our government is more than fifty percent composed of AIs? That they run all our factories and production facilities?"

Eunoe shifted a little, seeming to grimace a little. She glanced between the two of them again, seeming to be trying to read their faces.

"I honestly don't know," she said. "It depends on the politics. I could easily see them declaring war immediately, but at the same time, you humans seem to be doing alright, unlike what happened to the Quarians. You've told me about your Volokhov rules—if you can get the Salarians to look at those first, maybe… I don't know. I shouldn't tell you this, but I would keep that a secret for as long as possible. Try to get the Salarians to go gaga for your technology first if you can."

Eunoe looked down for a moment, then grimaced more obviously.

"You know, by telling me that you've made me poison, you know? I wouldn't be surprised if your leaders had me killed before my colleagues out there can storm this compound. Speaking frankly."

"As if," Emma snapped, obviously annoyed. "I won't let them."

Eunoe snorted.

"I didn't have to tell you any of this," she said. "Just so you know. Whatever it is you girls do with your costumes and such, it won't hold up to the Hierarchy war machine for more than a few days, tops."

"Is that so? Well you haven't seen anything until you've seen our fleet—"

"That's enough," Asami exhorted, grabbing Emma by the arm. "We're talking to Eunoe to try to find options for peace, not to swing our ovaries around comparing fleets!"

"Fine, fine," Emma said, subsiding.

Eunoe glanced away from the two of them, at the corner of the room.

"Having had the time to interact with humans," she said. "I can say that I would like peace too, but the more I learn about your AIs, the more worried I am about the Council. The Council is normally all about peace and diplomacy, but they go a little crazy when robots and AIs get involved. If it were up to us Turians, it would be war, guaranteed, I'm sorry to say. It'd be up to the Asari."

Eunoe put one hand to her head, seeming to nurse a headache.

"I never asked to be involved in anything like this."

"I understand," Asami said.

Eunoe frowned for a moment.

"Swinging ovaries?" she asked. "That's an odd saying."

"Yeah," Asami agreed. "It's an old saying among our, uh, organization. I'm not really sure where it comes from myself. Doesn't make sense to me."

"No, it's not that. I have a friend, Adrea, who used to say something similar. Just kind of weird."

Asami and Emma glanced at each other.

"Anyway," Asami said. "Let's change topics. I had a few questions about these Asari you mentioned…"

* * *

"As you have all heard, we have been promised that the fleet will be here within 48 hours, and that if we only hold out for that long, we will survive. For those of you who have not been within the military, it may be natural to wonder why we called a meeting to arrange an attack on these Turians. Given the strategic situation, it may be natural to assume that a determined defense is called for."

Colonel Herbert von Richthofen paced across the virtual stage as he spoke, seemingly determined to pierce each of them with his gaze. Nadya stood to one side, peering over the crowd with an unreadable expression.

A holographic overview of the battlefield appeared behind them, displaying in 2D-map form the area around the surviving sector of the colony, as well as what they knew of alien orbital deployments, hovering far over the surface.

"The unfortunate truth is, the odds are against us, even with the aliens on the clock. After the failure of their last attack, the aliens have begun gathering an even more massive attack, aimed directly at the center of our main battle line."

He turned to the map and pointed at a ragged streak of dots, barely coherent. Many areas, far too obviously critical, had been handed over to the civilian militia as a matter of necessity. When compared with the solid, dense lines of the gathering Turians, it seemed more a wisp of cloud. A puff of smoke seeking to stand against hurricane winds.

"This is our main battle line."

The virtual room went very quiet.

"As you can see, the situation is not ideal," von Richthofen said with the understatement so typical of his English ancestry. "While the actions of our…"

"Magical girls," said Nadya.

"…magical girls were instrumental," continued von Richthofen, shifting uncomfortably at the unusual phrasing, "We are like the defenders on Placer Mountain, at Albuquerque, cut off and surrounded, but we must hold. When the foothills of that famous mountain were seized, they did not wait for the storm to break over them—instead, they attacked, seizing the hills back, startling the enemy just long enough to freeze their offensive and regroup. They bought more time interrupting the enemy's plan than if they had simply sat and waited."

He paused for effect.

"And so it must be here. Thanks to our newfound unique capabilities, in the form of teleporters—" Ryouko fidgeted as attention briefly focused on her "—we can strike wherever and whenever we please, and the _enemy does not yet know it_. This is an advantage that will only have value _if_ _we use it_. If we wait until their iron fist is already punching through our lines, it will be too late."

He turned towards the map behind him, which switched focus from their own lines to the lines of the enemy, focusing on a small feature far in the rear.

"Our drone surveillance, as well as the services of Miss Echizen and Wu here, indicate quite clearly that this building now serves as the alien command center for their entire assault on this city. It is clearly staffed by the alien equivalent of generals and staff officers. Given the primitive nature of alien communications and command systems, it is likely that decapitating their command structure will destabilize their entire attack. If possible, the capturing of general officers will create opportunities for negotiation. At the very least, it will buy us time and make them hesitate to bombard us from orbit."

Von Richthofen glanced around the crowd, making eye contact with those he could. Ryouko saw his eyes meet hers for a moment, and squirmed again.

"I am hesitant to ask for more sacrifices from our… magical girls, you understand, but the opportunity must be taken. I have discussed our options with Miss Antipova here—a lightning strike, directly into an important staff meeting, teleport in, teleport out, and leaving an enormous bomb behind, will, I think get the job done."

"In addition, depending on the capabilities of Miss Shizuki here, we will attempt to destroy as much of the enemy logistics structure as we can. We have identified additional structures we believe to house generators that provide the battery power distributed to their forces, and used to power their eezo-powered weapons. Careful clairvoyant tracking by Miss Wu seems to indicate that this constant supply of power is crucial to the operation of their artillery and vehicles, though less so their small arms. Simultaneous to these additional operations, our offensive drones will strafe and bomb their battery dumps, attempting to destroy as much of their stored power as possible."

"Then, and only then, with their generators destroyed and Miss Shizuki taking a well-deserved rest, the magical girls will lead a surprise assault on their flanks. With their command in disarray, their ammo supplies depleted, and explosions all around them, it is hoped that their line will fold, and that they will be forced into retreat."

He took a moment to assess the looks on the faces of the crowd.

"It is a risky plan, yes, but our simulations indicate that it is the most likely way for us to survive the upcoming forty-eight hours. It will require the utmost cooperation for everyone involved—the main line will exert itself to hide the reallocation of forces to the flanks and the sentries and skirmishers must be on full alert for alien attacks. I do not have to tell you what's at stake, only that I expect the highest valor from each one of you."

He peered around the crowd one last time.

"And now, your unit commanders will brief you on your specific assignments. Dismissed."

* * *

"So how are you doing?"

Ryouko jerked in surprise at the question, not at the content, but at the voice speaking it.

She gaped upward at Rika the telepath, who stood over her looking down, looking no worse than she ever had.

"I-I guess I'm okay?"

The other girl knelt down next to Ryouko, on the edge of the curb that Ryouko sat on. A moment later, she shifted to sit next to Ryouko instead.

The other girl took a moment to look over the scenery in front of them, an expanse of forest

broken only slightly by the collection of buildings on its edge. It looked peaceful, but switching to her newly unlocked infrared vision allowed Ryouko to see the collection of alien soldiers and vehicles gathering underneath the trees, and Rika would have seen the same thing. The view from the top of the building was a mixed blessing, at best.

"I'm sorry about almost getting you killed," Ryouko said.

"You can apologize if you want," Rika said without looking at her, "but it doesn't really matter to me if you do. All that matters to me is that you stop killing yourself about it."

She turned, grabbing Ryouko by the face to force her to make eye contact.

"They told me how depressed you look. They sent me here to talk to you. I'm fine. They regenerated me. I didn't even feel anything. And even if I had died, do you think I'd blame you for what happened? We're all too young for this, Ryouko. We can only do the best we can."

The girl released Ryouko's face and looked down.

"If you're worried about me, I'm fine. If you're worried about letting everyone down, then prove yourself on this mission. Don't waste time feeling sad for yourself."

Ryouko nodded, slowly.

"I— I just can't forget, the way I couldn't—"

"It's our fault for pushing you too hard," Rika said. "This time, we've carefully measured out how much teleporting you have to do. If something becomes too much, we come back, and you rest. That's the entire plan. You don't have to do more than that. In battle, just hang tight and the rest of us will cover you."

Ryouko nodded again.

"That sounds reassuring, I guess."

Rika leaned over, hugging her in an unexpected gesture of intimacy. She felt warm and pleasant, and Ryouko felt a pang of guilt for thinking that.

"Let's head down and get ready," Rika said. "We'll feel better with some equipment on us. Bullets may not be as good as arrows, but they don't cost magic."

Rika jumped up, heading towards the stairwell down without looking back.

Ryouko followed a moment later.

* * *

"Don't grip so tight," said Annalise, "your implants can take care of most of the recoil,"

Emma grunted and tried to relax her hold on the gun. She and Annalise were at an improvised firing range set up behind the IIC Node. Some steel plates had been propped up twenty-five meters distant. A series of large, concrete slabs in the shade of the IIC Node buildings formed barriers for the shooters to stand behind. The girls who had been assigned to the strike mission were supposed to use it to familiarize themselves with the military hardware. Emma was the first one there.

"Now you're hunching your shoulders," said Annalise patiently.

Emma sighed, put the gun down, and rolled her shoulders. "Ugh. This is like learning how to dribble a football all over again."

"Well considering you've never shot a gun before, that sounds about right," said Annalise, shrugging. "C'mon now, you don't have much time."

"Yeah yeah," said Emma. She breathed in deeply, then back out. The gun lay on the table, an innocuous block of metal and polymer.

Being selected for the mission made for an interesting set of mixed feelings. It was pleasant, in the sense that it gave Emma a sort of warm feeling in her chest. She liked feeling like she was doing something important, and that she could be depended on by her teammates.

It also scared her. It meant that she was very good at killing.

Still, she was going to be going on a mission that would, hopefully, minimize bloodshed on all sides. This wasn't the time to get all philosophical about what she was doing. Emma grit her metaphorical teeth as she picked the gun up and stood in shooting position.

"Okay, your stance is… good," said Annalise with a small wince. "Remember, your implants will handle most of everything. Just stay focused and let the gun surprise you."

Emma rolled her eyes, just a little. The Mk. 27 Close Support Pistol, the one she and everyone else going on the strike mission had been given, was a monster of a weapon. The kickback was tremendous, and it was extraordinarily loud. Letting the gun "surprise" her was probably somewhat inadvisable, even if the advice allowed for better accuracy.

Annalise stepped back, giving Emma her room. "Whenever you're ready."

Don't pull, squeeze. Gently now, don't rush it. Breath in-two-three, out-two-th—

Emma jumped as the gun exploded in her hands. She dropped it immediately, the weapon clattering as it bounced off the ground.

Annalise leaned back out from cover. "Yeah, uh, try and keep a better grip on it next time?" she said. "I know I told you to let it surprise you, but…"

"It's _loud_ , alright?" said Emma testily. She bent down and picked the gun back up. "I'll… get used to it. Or something."

"Well, at least you managed to get a good shot in before dropping the damn thing," said Annalise. "Check it out downrange."

Emma looked. There was a gaping hole in the center of the steel plate being used for target practice.

"…Damn."

"Give it a few more tries," said Annalise encouragingly. "Then you can find out why we call it 'the Crisper'."

"Right."

The second shot was still absolutely ridiculous. The "Crisper" was only effective at short range, but packed the punch of a sniper rifle designed to be effective over several kilometers. Each slug hit with the ballistic equivalent of a freight train, nevermind the spray of pellets that preceded it. Impossible to use in any other century, the Crisper hadn't even been considered feasible until military implants allowed soldiers to adequately control the recoil. For a magical girl, it was theoretically even easier.

That was, if Emma could get the hang of shooting the damn thing.

"Got the hang of it?" asked Annalise after the fifth echoing report.

"I guess?" said Emma, setting down the gun and shaking out her hands. "Jeez, that wears out your hands."

"I thought you said that magical girls were better than that?" said Annalise with amusement. She laughed when Emma rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I'm just messing with ya'. It's your first time shooting. You really should be starting on something smaller, but, well, we don't have enough time. I'll make it up to you."

"How's that then?" asked Emma as Annalise rummaged in her uniform.

"Ah, I got some other ammo from the depot," said Annalise. "It's always a pain to find and carry individual rounds, but the Crisper's the one gun we're all okay with in that regard. Hand me the gun?"

Emma handed the weapon over to Annalise, holding it by the barrel as was proper.

"Thanks," said Annalise. She removed the gun's empty magazine and tucked it into her uniform, then handed the gun and a fresh magazine to Emma. "This mag is full of incendiary ammo, instead of the ball ammo we had earlier."

"Uh, are you sure you want me firing this?" asked Emma, holding the weapon gingerly.

"The fire doesn't start until it hits the other end," said Annalise. "Just make sure to keep the gun pointed downrange and we'll be fine."

"Um, fair enough I guess," said Emma. The magazine slotted into the back of the pistol—really it was more of a miniaturized cannon in Emma's opinion—with a heavy click.

"Now, downrange, just like before," said Annalise. "You've got the gist of it already."

"Right."

In-two-three, out-two-thr—

Emma kept ahold of the gun this time as the steel plate opposite her seemed to explode in a curtain of flame.

"Holy shit."

Ryouko winced and flushed at her own profanity as Annalise turned and grinned at her while Emma squeezed off another shot. The pool of fire grew.

"Impressive isn't it?" Annalise shouted over the roar of the gun and the fire. "You're Ryouko right? The teleporter?"

"Yes," said Ryouko, fiddling with the Crisper strapped to her thigh. "I— that's a lot of fire."

"Saved a lotta lives, that fire has," said Annalise with a firm nod. "Particularly on some of the more wild planets. I remember blasting a Giant Fire Worm with that once. Turns out that Fire Worms don't like fire."

Ryouko blinked and looked up the insect. The image of a great, scaly thing capable of swallowing her whole appeared briefly before Ryouko dismissed the image with a shudder. Xenobiology was Asami's thing, not hers, and honestly she was happy not knowing what some of the animals in the galaxy looked like.

"Why're they called Fire Worms then?" asked Ryouko. Emma fired a last shot. The pool of flame had since turned into a large column, dancing in the breeze. Its core was bright white, the steel dripping onto the ground in globs of slag. As the flames reached higher, they shifted into yellow, then orange, flickering back and forth to the sound of buffeting air and hissing, snapping sparks that leaped off of the used-to-be target plate in a bid to spread the flames further.

"Well you know the Bombardier Beetle, on Earth?" asked Annalise rhetorically. "These guys had a similar mechanism, only they fired it at you from a gland on top of their head."

"That sounds… unpleasant."

"It was," said Annalise with a shrug. "But well, it is what it is. That's what being a Frontier Guard is, you know?"

Ryouko shook her head. She pulled her new gun out of its holster and looked at it.

"No. I don't."

* * *

"How does it feel?" asked Emma.

"Mm, it's okay," said Ryouko, shifting the armor plates on her torso around and twisting back and forth. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Nadya gave me a quick crash course," said Emma, stepping back and letting the blue glow on her hands fade away. "But well, the military doesn't have any armor your size, and we need to make sure we don't lose you."

"That's… comforting," said Ryouko. She looked down at the smooth metal that covered her chest and, by her neck, her soul gem embedded in its housing.

It all seemed so fragile, suddenly. Nadya had taken the group through a series of simulated practice rounds, with Ryouko at the center of the little formation. Isabella was right next to her, forcefield forming a dome around them just as they teleported in, before Emma and Nadya and Rika had leaped forward to slash at virtual enemies.

A hand tilted Ryouko's chin up. She blinked at Emma.

"Hey now, don't be getting depressed on me," the older magical girl said. She whacked Ryouko on the arm and grinned. "You've got this, yeah? I believe in you."

Ryouko swallowed. "I…"

"Stop worrying about it," said Emma. "This is right up your alley, after all."

"Yeah…."

Right up her alley huh. That included, Ryouko supposed, ripping people in half.

"Ryouko?"

The two of them turned as Asami ran up, out of costume.

"I'll see you at the pad, okay?" said Emma to Ryouko.

"Huh— oh, yeah, alright," said Ryouko. She turned to Asami. "Hi."

"Is that all you have to say?" asked Asami, looking a little sad.

"Well… what else should I say?" asked Ryouko.

"A lot of things," said Asami. She stepped closer to Ryouko and took one of her girlfriend's hands in hers. It was the one with Ryouko's fingernail marking. Taking the finger in hand, Asami brushed her thumb over the top of the star.

"You know, when I first met you, I thought you must have been crazy, intervening like you did. You were my hero for a few minutes, and I thought, wow, if only I could be like her. And then you shut up Inga Sokoloff with a single comment, and I… "

Asami paused, and brushed her thumb over the star once more.

"I think that's when I fell in love with you, Ryouko. You seemed so brave, and strong, even though you were also so small. Like me. I wanted to have that confidence. And then afterwards, as you pulled me away, and it was like I had been swept off my feet in a fairy tale."

"You told me to tell you about myself," said Ryouko quietly. "You're hardly a princess, Asami."

"Heh. No, I suppose not."

They were quiet for a moment.

"Come back to me, okay?" said Asami, looking back up to Ryouko. "I— maybe I shouldn't say that I love you, maybe I'm just freaking out because everything is crazy and— I don't know. I just, we're not done here, okay? We still need to figure stuff out. I want to be with you, at least a little longer."

"Asami…"

"I-I'll see you soon, Ryouko," said Asami. She gulped, then let go of Ryouko's hand. "G-good lu—"

Ryouko stepped forward and pulled Asami towards her by the waist. It was a bit of a clumsy move, in all honesty, what with Asami being surprised and limbs flailing at the suddenness of it all. And it wasn't romantic at all, seeing as Ryouko'd never practiced this maneuver and completely missed on her first try.

But after Asami caught her bearings, but before she caught her breath, Ryouko pulled Asami close and kissed her on the mouth. It was a hard kiss, the sort that she didn't give, at all, and filled with a desperation and a pain that she couldn't put into words.

It took a very long time to complete, and left them breathless when they parted.

Ryouko's implants were starting to beep at her.

"I— I'm coming back, Asami," Ryouko eventually managed. "I mean it."

Asami swallowed, and stepped back.

"Go. I believe in you."

* * *

"While I'm down there, I might give the troops a little inspirational speech, maybe raise their morale a little," Legate Septimus mused, peering out of the window of his shuttle at the planet Arcanorum. It was, he thought, a pretty planet, a fine place for these alien colonists to settle down, once this little incident was over with.

He remembered, then, that those same colonists were resisting the intervention with unreasonable amounts of force. He did not want to be a conqueror, but if his troops filled the streets of the alien colony with blood, could he be called anything else?

Not a pleasing thought, but, in the end, he could only rely on knowing what his duty was and performing that duty.

"I'm not sure that is wise, Legate," his second-in-command Arturius said. "The troops don't need a speech from you to perform their duties. They're Turians. Every second you spend down on the surface—"

"Come now, Arturius," Septimus said. "I think you overestimate their chances. What if the word got out to the men that I was rushing back out from fear of these alien 'superweapons'? Better to show some solidarity, I would think."

Arturius shifted uneasily. "If you say so, sir."

Septimus leaned over to peer out the window of his shuttle again, behind the head of one of his bodyguard troopers. There was showing solidarity, and then there was foolhardiness. But his shuttle looked no different from any of the other transports traveling in and out of orbit, and there had been no announcement of his departure or arrival.

"Don't worry, Arturius," he said, "I haven't forgotten the reason I'm traveling to the surface. This has all been very unnerving, and some caution is merited. But I am here to remind everyone that, casualties or not, this campaign is still well in hand, and now that we have clearly measured the alien capabilities, there is no reason not to have confidence in the upcoming assault."

Arturius made a vague grunting noise. He didn't seem to enjoy the idea, but nevertheless followed orders.

Septimus continued to peer down on the blue-green and violet planet. The truth was, the casualties bothered him too. They were more characteristic of an actual war than a mere intervention. Inconsequential compared to the meat grinder of the Krogan Wars, but worrying nonetheless. Despite this, it was his responsibility not to be rattled by such things, and to keep his officers' eyes on the target. In some sense, he was traveling down to reassure his officers, rather than his men.

"I have an odd sense of foreboding," Arturius said. "I'm not sure why."

"I do too," Septimus said. "But let's not be superstitious."

* * *

"First target's a simple smash-and-go on a supply depot," said Nadya. "Ryouko, you've got the location dialed in?"

"Yes," said Ryouko. She took a deep breath, steeling her nerves.

"Alright, everyone form up then," said Nadya. Emma reached a hand out and clasped Ryouko on the shoulder. The younger girl was skinnier than Emma had been at that age. Thin, and a bit reedy, the result of never trying to fit the "footballist" image.

"Barrier going up," said Isabella. The dome closed around them.

"Powering up," Emma said, a swirl of magic flickering in her palm.

"Ready to go," said Rika. She gripped her spear tightly, ready to leap forward at a moment's notice.

"We are go for the operation," said Nadya. "On your mark, Ryouko."

Emma braced herself. Magic swirled behind her as Ryouko prepared to teleport.

A green flash.

Emma shot forward, the barrier dropping just in time as she and Rika tore through personnel.

Crashing thunder sounded as Emma's vortex spheres pinged out, tearing open walls and weakening support beams, and the screams of the dying Turians mingled with the screams of twisting metal beams as Nadya reached out and _pulled_ and—

—Emma threw herself upwards with a burst of wind to get clear, the Turian response impressively quick, but a spray of wind took care of things handily, and Emma rocketed downwards again.

"Regroup!" Nadya called, snatching a piece of steel into the air and rocketing it into a Turian. "Come on, go, go, go!"

Twin flashes of magic as Emma and Rika jumped, before skidding to a halt and grabbing Ryouko by a fistful of dress, and then another flash of—

—green and they were off again, this time in a command post, spear and halberd points punching through armor and flesh and then a platoon sergeant, scrambling for his sidearm, was pinned against the wall with the crack of carapace meeting prefabbed ceramic.

"Rika!"

The Turian's eyes went wide, scrabbling at Emma's arm, before magic flooded his mind and the eyes went glassy.

"Ryouko!" called Emma, tossing the Turian towards the teleporter group. Twin flashes, broken by a second. Emma and Rika retreated, before Nadya tore the command post's computers from their housings and crushed them into uselessness.

"Go!"

Ryouko teleported again, and now they were—

* * *

"—making a line straight for Central!" a panicked commander shouted over comms. "We can't predict where they're coming from!"

"It's a strike team," Septimus said calmly. "Get out of your post and—"

The call went dead abruptly.

"Get everyone out of the command posts and into cover," Septimus said quickly. He turned to the battle holo, activating the display and looking over what remained of the command chain. The bevy of red lights did not speak well to the situation. "I want everyone spread out. If they're here to assassinate, make them work for it."

"What about us, sir?" asked Arturius as comms officers began shouting into their radios and security personnel readied their weapons. The once-orderly command center exploded into activity as workstations were shut down and equipment was shifted. "Should we evacuate?"

"We will do no such thing," said Septimus. "Captain Roranis, get two heavy machine guns and set them up at the entrance to this room. We will—"

* * *

"—make for the next target, Ryouko," said Nadya. "Isabella's fine."

"Yeah, I'm okay," said Isabella, holding a hand to her gut. "I've been hurt worse by demons. It doesn't even hurt anymore."

"O-okay," said Ryouko, swallowing thickly and looking away. She focused. "Teleporting in three, two, one."

Flash.

A command post, again, and this time they had to duck behind cover as a fusillade of gunfire responded.

"They're learning!"

"Not fast enough!"

Nadya pushed. Desks and equipment flew. The room's occupants found themselves violently and percussively removed from action.

"Ryouko—" Nadya began, but the younger mage had already flashed over to the Turians, grabbed ahold of the most senior-looking one, and flashed away.

"How're we doing on cubes?" asked Emma. Magic flickered around her arms as she and Rika watched the doors.

"We have enough," said Nadya.

A flash of green.

"Do you need a break?"

"No, 'm fine," said Ryouko. Her gem was reasonably light. "Next?"

"Let's move ladies," said Nadya. The clank of armored feet approached. "Just the main command post now. Ready?"

Nods.

"Alright, here we go."

A flash—

* * *

—of green, and immediately the machine guns unloaded a hail of bullets.

"Keep them pinned!" Septimus called out. "Second squad, move to their left and—"

* * *

"Emma!"

"On it!"

* * *

Septimus's training and experience saved him from getting concussed. The explosion threw him and his soldiers through the air, but diving for cover had mitigated the blow. Instinctively, Septimus went ragdoll and let himself be tossed into the wall. His armor and his body's natural shock-absorbing ability kept him mostly alert.

The world spun, despite it all, and Septimus clawed his way to his feet. Arturius lay nearby, stirring, slowly. Those soldiers wearing helmets were already standing, weapons moving up and acquiring their targets.

"Return fire!" Septimus shouted, then pulled his sidearm, staggering, but the wound sealant worked quickly and—

* * *

—Emma cursed as the team dived for cover again, unusually accurate shots snapping past them.

"I thought that worked!"

"Doesn't matter, I've got this," said Nadya. She growled, then stood up with a flourish. The gun—

* * *

—jumped out of Septimus's hands, then spun around to smash him across the face.

That was going to scar, at a minimum.

And now the world really was spinning, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. Idly, he noticed that he was still crawling for the door, and that the gunfire stopped, why had it— oh, that was one of his troops, missing her head. A wave of nausea swept him, and he vomited violently.

* * *

"That's the enemy general!" Nadya called. "We need to grab him while he's down!"

"I'll do it!" volunteered Emma. She waved Ryouko back into cover. "Give Ryouko a break."

Nadya glanced between the two, then nodded.

"Covering fire! Emma, go!"

Emma took a deep breath, then vaulted over the top, launching herself forward in a—

* * *

—flash of blue and Septimus was sure he was hallucinating but then a hand on his shoulder and—

* * *

Emma felt her instincts scream at her as she whirled away but—

* * *

A shotgun's roar.

* * *

"EMMA!"

* * *

She couldn't— what was— her arm, it hurt, her arm hurt, she needed to—

* * *

"Legate, on your feet!" Arturius shouted, booted foot kicking out and tossing the alien away as he grabbed Septimus by the arm and hauled him up. "We need to get out of here!"

"Arturius?"

"Move, Legate! Get—"

Arturius abruptly let go, sending Septimus crashing to the ground. The Legate tried to turn, tried to help—

A dull snap.

* * *

"We're clear!" said Nadya, ducking back. The Turian with the shotgun was now out of the picture. "Ryouko, get Emma!"

Ryouko swallowed, but nodded. She popped out of cover, spraying down the opposite end with bolts from her arbalest, before teleporting to Emma's side.

There was blood everywhere. It got on her knees as Ryouko dropped to the ground. No time, not to be repulsed or scared, she needed to get Emma out of the area.

"Wounds first," Nadya said calmly over telepathy. "Magical girls can take a lot of damage, but it's easier to repair if we have all the parts."

Ryouko looked down. The shotgun had torn Emma's arm off just above the elbow. Ryouko choked back a wave of nausea and grabbed onto the limb lying nearby. The older mage was glassy eyed and unconscious, implants already placing her in fugue.

She could hear soldiers coming. A hand on Emma's shoulder, and Ryouko blinked back to the others.

Septimus looked up from where he was on the ground and saw reinforcements sprinting down the corridor and a medic sliding to his knees, medpack already out and beginning to tend to the Legate. Light and sound filled the room as the reinforcements opened fire, making the medic flinch, but—

* * *

—a flash of green—

* * *

—the enemy was already gone.

* * *

"For the record, our team did consider going into one of the derelict 'human' settlements to retrieve some artifacts or armor samples, or perhaps a corpse, but found it far too risky given current battlefield conditions and demonstrated alien capacity."

Jaira T'Ari nodded absently at Thaleon's comment, continuing to flip through the report her former flame had provided her. She would have to give the tablet back after she was done looking through it, but Thaleon had done her a big favor letting her read an eyes-only STG report, one that would cost her dearly someday, she knew.

Her eyes flicked over the final pages of the report, from the STG team on the ground monitoring events, knowing and dreading the words she already knew would be there.

…some bearing archaic melee weapons…

…apparent combat strength vastly exceeding even Krogan levels…

…apparent telekinesis and teleportation…

…remote mental domination of Turian infantry and vehicle commanders…

She had to struggle to school her facial expressions properly. Thaleon was a master at reading expressions, and knew her better than anyone, but even he had never picked up on her big secret, the secret that she saw falling apart before her eyes, on an alien world, far beyond her control.

The truth was, the Phoenix Foundation had already warned her of what she would find here. The clean-up job it would take to keep word of any of this leaking out would be monumental, perhaps even impossible, but this was an all-hands-on-deck moment, she knew, and she would have to try. She was the Asari diplomat on site, and it was her responsibility to contain the situation and keep it from getting worse.

Above all, it was imperative that she establish her own, separate contact with these "humans", and convince their mages to go back into hiding, and to bring them under the umbrella of the Phoenix Foundation. She had the authority to offer almost any concession the Foundation thought it could wring out of the Turians and Council, the authority to do almost anything she wanted in defense of the Masquerade. Almost like a SPECTRE, in fact.

If only there were some way to make contact…

She looked up at Thaleon, who was watching her with a slightly curious expression. The STG operative _had_ in fact provided her with new information, even if she had worried at first that she had traded favors for a report useless to her. In between the many Masquerade-destroying revelations contained on the page were hints of something else: unusual armored combat suits, impressive drone swarm technology, powerful weaponry, extraordinary combat cohesion—speaking as an Asari diplomat, a veritable laundry list of reasons to make the humans allies, rather than enemies. If the alien mages could be brought to cooperate with the Phoenix Foundation, they could all to work ensure that an alliance happened.

And why wouldn't they cooperate, if they knew the Foundation's goals?

But first, she had to make contact.

"You seem less surprised than I expected," Thaleon said, perceptive as always. "Perhaps you already had word of this? I must say, I would not believe this report if it did not come from trained STG operatives. Even though it does, I must wonder if the aliens have some kind of hallucinogenic weapon."

Yes, a hallucinogenic weapon was one of the explanations the Foundation expected to have to invoke for this particular incident. She had expected Thaleon to consider it as a possibility—it was one of the only ways to explain this that made sense in a sane world.

In a sane world.

She thought for a moment. On the surface of it, what she had to do was clear. This report, in all its particulars, could not be allowed to reach beyond a few key Foundation agents embedded in the Salarian government. Unfortunately, all STG agents operated to some degree on their own—Thaleon's presence on her ship testified as much. In the hands of Thaleon, the report could reach far too many places beyond his official superiors. That logic applied to the members of the STG team too, of course.

There was only one person well-placed to stop Thaleon and the STG team from spreading the information too widely. There was also one person in her contact who could potentially make contact with the humans quickly, without Turian intermediaries. The humans would be more inclined to trust a Salarian than any Turian Adrea could sneak across the lines.

Both of those people were Thaleon himself, of course, who was now too valuable to kill, for which she was glad.

Two enemies with one bullet, as the Turian saying went. All it took was for her to bring Thaleon in on the secret, and convince him of the necessity of cooperation. She wouldn't have hesitated, if it weren't so damn _personal_.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," Thaleon said, tilting his head slightly. "It's the same look you used to have, when you were trying to think of a suitable excuse for the two of us to be alone in a room, except I don't think that's it this time."

Jaira sighed, reaching into her drawer for a tablet that contained the introductory material for new, non-mage Trustees.

"You have trusted me with a secret, Thaleon," she said. "Now I must trust you with a bigger one."

* * *

"The fleet will be there in about forty hours," _Governance: Military Affairs_ said, standing to address the Directorate from his position between _Science and Technology_ and _Public Order_. "From the observations of the orbital drones during their improvised attack on the alien fleet, the fleet that has been gathered should be more than a match for these aliens, provided they don't have _too_ many surprises for us. I would have preferred to bring a bit _more_ firepower, but this is the limit of what is possible given the time constraints and the resources that have been allocated to contingency preparations."

"And it _was_ sufficient, apparently," _Health and Happiness_ commented, glaring at the other Representative from across the council floor.

The Directorate were a motley lot, by appearance as well as personality. The contrast between the gruff _Military Affairs_ , decked out in a combination of armor suit and dress uniform, and the classically beautiful _Health and Happiness_ , who looked like every teenage boy's Freudian wet dream, was particularly extreme.

For today's full meeting, the Directorate had chosen to site themselves—virtually, of course—on board Governance's primary civilian and military shipyard, Carthago Station, an enormous floating sea of islands set high in Earth orbit. The walls, floor, and ceiling of the room they sat in were transparent, showing the green, white, and blue orb of Earth floating in the distance far beneath them. The chairs they sat in were invisible, apparitions designed not to interfere with the view. The table itself was dominated by a slowly-rotating piece of brass sculpture set in the center and the majestic empty throne that sat at the end.

It was an actual room that could be found on Carthago, but was rarely used in practice, being somewhat over-ornate, and rather unsettling.

"That is a bit misleading to say," _Science and Technology_ said, addressing _Health and Happiness_. "After all, there was no reasonable expectation that the colony would hold out as long as it did, and it only did so by a mechanism that we have to conclude is a bit… unorthodox."

"Do you believe the accounts originating from Nazra Invictus, then?" _Public Order_ asked.

"I believe that the people there see what they claim to see," _Science and Technology_ said. "Whether what these supposedly magical girls are doing is indeed magical, or merely sufficiently advanced technology, is beside the point. What matters is what they are doing, that they exist, and what implications it has."

"And what of this organization that they claim to represent?" _Artificial Intelligence_ asked, glancing at _Public Order_. "How is it that we have never noticed such an organization? It must be local, or small."

 _Public Order_ , one of the humans on the Directorate, was a slenderly-built Japanese woman with her hair in a long ponytail. She smiled slightly, almost shyly, brushing her bangs to the side, as the table looked to her for an explanation. It was her role, after all, in the adhocracy known as Governance.

"The organization is not at all small," _Public Order_ began. She stood, keeping her hands on the table. Even after all these years, she still found being short more comfortable than not.

"Indeed, it is rather pervasive," continued Yuma, MSY Director of Governmental Affairs, "and I, for one, have known about it for a long time."

* * *

"This is a disaster." Legate Septimus said, leaning over the strategic map display in his office on board the dreadnought _Endurance_.

"I'm not sure I would say that, Legate," his newly-promoted second-in-command, Vitellius, countered. "The battlefield is still very much in our control. We need only regroup and strike again."

Septimus grimaced, hiding the gesture underneath the mask he was wearing to hold together his shattered mandible. A talon tugged at the subvocal translator strapped around his neck, the highly sensitive microphone allowing him to move his jaws as little as possible while they healed. The medics didn't think he should be at work at all, and he had been forced to browbeat them with his rank to get them to allow him up from his bed.

It would be at least two weeks of a liquid diet for him, a prospect he dreaded only slightly less than having to spend those two weeks working with this Vitellius, an ambitious, uninspired careerist if he ever saw one.

Arturius had been a fine officer, one who served the Hierarchy and Legion above all else, and who would have been a little more perceptive than this… Vitellius.

Septimus wondered what it would take to be able to safely fire him. In all likelihood he wouldn't be able to, so perhaps he would be able to promote Vitellius into a different post somewhere far away, except that would entail convincing the Hierarchy to make Vitellius a Legate, a prospect Septimus found exquisitely distasteful.

Septimus sighed, careful to ensure that he directed the vocalism at the map, rather than at Vitellius.

"Nonetheless, it is a disaster, from all angles," Septimus insisted. "Our front lines have been rolled out of position and the command hierarchy has been broken. It has taken and will take considerable time to rebuild both properly. Much of our heavy artillery and vehicles have been destroyed—or _looted_ —and despite all the efforts of the Logistics Legion, we will not be able to launch a proper attack for days, by which time the alien fleet will almost certainly have arrived."

Vitellius made a constipated-looking expression.

"We can certainly take them as they come, Legate," he said. "Do you doubt the troops?"

"Don't be a fool, Vitellius," Septimus said, allowing a bit of the mockery he felt to leak into his voice. "Proper leadership is not just about winning battles, no matter what they told you in training. It is about accomplishing the objectives that have been set out for you. Our objectives were to seize this planet as a _starting point for negotiations_ with the alien leadership regarding respect for Council regulations. Our objective was not to start a major war, which major fleet combat would undoubtedly result in."

Septimus stared at Vitellius a moment longer, making sure he got the point, then looked back at the map, shifting units experimentally with his hands even though he knew there was no point. It was just habit.

"I'm afraid our time is running out, Vitellius," Septimus said, managing to avoid making the name sound like an insult. "Neither the Council nor the Hierarchy will stomach a major war, especially after a debacle like this, and I'm sure the diplomats and agents are already on their way to render us irrelevant. There will be no time for another attack."

He tapped a button on the display to emphasize his point, allowing it to display the estimated time for troop movements, new units to arrive, and the accelerating appearance rate of alien probes and scouts.

"And make no mistake, Vitellius," Septimus said, "this was a debacle. Think about how it will sound once the media gets ahold of it. 'Turians embarrassed with massive casualties.' 'Turians wander into trap, lose half of their commanding officers. Legate Septimus forced to flee back to command ship with tail between legs.' And so on and so forth. More importantly, these aliens have shown that they are powerful, and if there is one thing the Council respects, it is _power_."

"That is very cynical, Legate," Vitellius said.

Septimus exerted all of his willpower to avoid saying or doing anything in response, preferring to continue shuffling his units into new hypothetical positions, in the hopes that it would make him feel better.

"What do you think _is_ the source of the aliens' powers, Legate?" Vitellius asked, looking thoughtful for a moment. "The men on the ground are starting to spread rumors that it's _magic_ , and the Legion information officers don't really know what else to tell them."

A vision flashed in front of Septimus's eyes, of blue and purple and red, streaks of light and sparks that danced through the air and—

He saw Arturius suspended in the air for a moment, shotgun crumpling itself, as his second-in-command reached desperately for his throat before it _collapsed_ , and he hung limp for a moment, neck broken.

"It's not magic," said Septimus, very carefully holding himself still. "We're not sure what it is yet. The command staff had been discussing the possibility of some sort of hallucinogenic gas, which is not entirely unprecedented."

Privately, though, he had his doubts. It wasn't hallucinogenic gas that had killed Arturius. But then what was it?

"Should I have gas masks distributed to the troops, then?" Vitellius asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

"That seems like a sensible precaution," Septimus said, because it was. Vitellius did, in fact, have a functioning brain for the basics.

"Very well."

A pause.

"Perhaps it is time for us to bombard the planet, Legate?" Vitellius said. "That would nullify whatever it is that the aliens are doing, and it would be fast. I know there will be regrettable civilian casualties, but—"

"Absolutely not," Septimus said, standing upright and grinding his teeth to avoid shouting at his second-in-command. His jaw creaked, in the most literal sense, but he didn't care. "I will not have that kind of blood on my hands, or the hands of the Hierarchy. Besides that, can you imagine the implications that would have politically with the Asari, and the other species? Do you have no head for politics? How exactly did you—"

A light flashed on the display on Septimus's console, and Septimus tapped it immediately, grateful for any distraction from the current, distressing conversation.

It was brevet Colonel Drusus, the new ranking officer on the planet surface.

"Go ahead," he said.

"Legate, sir, the uh, alien colonists have sent an officer through with a request for a ceasefire, in order to collect the wounded and dead, and also to discuss the possibility of prisoner exchanges. I was going to turn him back, but I think this kind of thing should be dealt with on your authority, sir."

"That is correct, Colonel," Septimus said, buying time for himself to think. "And you have acted correctly by reporting it. Decisions of that nature can only be made by me."

He let the silence stand for a moment, thinking about the matter. He had expected the aliens to offer a ceasefire—it was only natural, after what had just occurred. The aliens probably thought that their officer prisoners would cause the Turians to hesitate, due to the implicit hostage-taking involved. More importantly, it would buy them time for their fleet to arrive and change the nature of the game.

"You can't possibly be considering it," Vitellius said.

"Do not speak to me without addressing me properly, Tribune Vitellius," Septimus snapped. "I am the commanding officer because I understand the situation, and _you do not_."

Septimus paused, turning away to hide his abrupt regret at his words. But, they could not be taken back now.

"How much time did the aliens want?" Septimus asked, addressing Drusus over the communications relay.

Drusus had almost certainly heard the exchange between Septimus and Vitellius, but showed impressive composure by responding with a calm:

"Two days, based on this planet's days, though they were willing to negotiate—"

"Done. Tell them we agree to those conditions, and ensure they are carried out. I will send further instructions later."

In two days, the Council negotiators would certainly already be here, and the situation would be out of his hands.

"The aliens also wanted to speak to you, Legate, or to someone authorized to negotiate."

Septimus looked over at Vitellius.

"Legate, I am sorry—"

"Don't trouble yourself over that. I will be going down to the surface to see what… diplomacy can accomplish. You will be in command of the fleet until I return. Your job is to ensure _nothing happens_ and that if the alien fleet gets here, that _there is no battle_. Do you understand me?"

"I-I do, sir."

"Then you are dismissed. Go arrange my transport."

Vitellius saluted crisply, but nervously, then dashed out of his office.

"You heard that, Colonel?" Septimus asked.

"Yes I did, Legate. If I may say so, Sir, are you sure it is wise for you to head down to the planet? They may try to capture you."

"They can try," Septimus said. "And if they somehow succeed, then I will want you in command of the ground forces. I won't have that idiot Vitellius trying to run a battle on the ground."

"Sir? But he outranks me?"

"He won't. Congratulations, brevet Tribune."

"Sir, I mean Legate, this is a tremendous honor—" Drusus began, the emotion in his voice evident.

"The honor is mine, Tribune," Septimus interrupting. "Please, go attend to your duties. I'll have the paperwork sent shortly. You and Vitellius will be equal rank, as co-commanders."

It didn't fit customary Legion structure, but Septimus didn't feel like caring. He would have sacked Vitellius or made Drusus outrank him, but that level of insult would have attracted the attention of Vitellius's political backers. Besides, he hardly knew Colonel Drusus, even if he seemed like a good soldier—it was just that anyone would be better than Vitellius. There would be time to properly evaluate Drusus's _brevet_ promotion later.

Septimus sighed. His jaw ached. He needed some more painkillers.

* * *

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"That was…"

"Mmhm."

"Was it as good for you?"

Jaira was amused, briefly, by the mental image of her sipping a drink while Thaleon waxed rapturous next to her.

"Well, you know how it works for Asari," said Jaira, reaching out and running a hand down one of Thaleon's horns. "The better it was for you, the better it was for me."

"Yeah," said Thaleon. He had an adorable grin across his face that stirred very, very old feelings in Jaira's chest. "Yeah. I just— wow."

"It's a big secret."

" _Huge._ "

"And you always said that size wasn't that important~"

"Well," said Thaleon, examining his fingernails idly. "When you know how to use it as well as I do—"

Jaira rolled her eyes and dropped a pillow onto Thaleon's face.

"Ack! Help, help, domestic violence!" laughed Thaleon, struggling playfully as Jaira held him down with the pillow. She was careful to leave his mouth uncovered.

"Nothing will save you now!" Jaira growled. "Submit to my will, STG scum!"

"Never!" Thaleon cried. "By the power of gray—"

"Approaching mass relay," intoned the ship autopilot. "Please prepare for reentry to normal space."

"Ah, and so reality intrudes," sighed Jaira sadly. "Come on, we better get dressed."

Thaleon grunted as Jaira hopped off the bed. He rolled onto his side as Jaira walked quickly towards her discarded clothes, watching the apparently-magical diplomat get dressed.

"All this time huh," he said quietly.

"Hm?"

"All this time, and you never told me," said Thaleon. He sighed, looking down at the bed and tracing circles with a finger. "I don't blame you. Not really. But we…."

Jaira looked at him cautiously. "…we?"

"Nevermind," said Thaleon. He rolled back and over and got off the bed. "Ancient history. For me, anyway."

"Thaleon…"

"Don't, Jaira," said Thaleon. "Please, just… just don't. I buried that a long time ago. It's not a big deal, really. Just something for me to deal with."

Jaira sighed, standing quietly by the door as she watched Thaleon get dressed. They were both in the secret-keeping business, but only of other people's. Having the same techniques applied to you, personally, stung much more harshly than any professional situation. They both had things they could never reveal, not without going against every oath they'd taken for their respective organizations, but Thaleon was right. Jaira didn't need to—shouldn't, in fact—try and justify herself.

Among other things, it was why they'd ultimately broken up. Some spies they were.

"Approaching mass relay," the autopilot said again. "Normal space reentry imminent."

"What are your thoughts then?" asked Jaira. "It's a delicate situation."

Thaleon folded his arms thoughtfully. "Honestly, there's not much we _can_ do. I can try my best to suppress the report, so long as you get me the contacts, but there's just too much evidence spread out across too many people. The hallucinogenic weapons cover story is still our best option."

"I suppose we could try to get the humans to support the story. If your STG team can plant evidence of chemical weapons, and we can get the humans to admit it as an explanation, that might be enough to mollify the Turian high command and the media. The soldiers won't buy it, but that should be good enough."

"That relies on the humans agreeing to everything you suggest. I think you're being way too optimistic," said Thaleon, shaking his head. "I've told the team on the ground to make contact with the humans and give them a communication transponder, but my experience with these kinds of negotiations is that it will be a long time before anyone sees reason. At the very least, there will be a lot of posturing that will have to be worked through before anything will happen."

"I know that, Thaleon. I'm a diplomat. I'm being optimistic because I _have_ to be optimistic."

"Well, you asked my opinion, so there it is. Incidentally, how are you so certain the human government doesn't _already_ know about their magicians?"

"We're _not_ magicians, and anyway the Incubators would never allow it."

"These mysterious, all-powerful, invisible aliens?"

"Yes."

"You assume too much."

* * *

Clarisse van Rossum had lived a very, very long life. It bothered her, sometimes, that her strength and power fluctuated with the times. Yes, she could do many things in times of great trial, but there were so many small tragedies that could be averted too, if she only had the ability. But, no, it was only times where many millions of lives stood in the balance, that Clarisse could truly pull off feats that made her the stuff of magical girl legend.

Even so, Clarisse found herself lying on the floor of the starship she'd borrowed, staring at the ceiling and wondering where she'd gone wrong in her life.

The more accurate term would really be "commandeered". It had been immensely fortuitous that she'd been only a day out from Nazra Invictus, and even more fortuitous that the MSY had a ship docked in orbit. The ship's captain had been roused from her bed at a perfectly ungodly time of day, even for modern humans, and quite literally pressganged into flying Clarisse, and the somewhat ridiculous number of grief cubes she was bringing, towards Nazra Invictus.

Fortunately, the Captain had been a Trusted NC for a while now, and had taken the abruptness with good grace. With the coordinates punched in, there was nothing much to do except wait as the cargo freighter burned onwards at flank speed.

The waiting was going to drive Clarisse mad though. For the umpteenth time, she checked the chronometer and time to deceleration. They weren't even close to the designated time. Clarisse sighed and tried to think about other things, instead of this horrid waiting.

She'd never actually been that good at waiting, truth be told. Her wish had been born from this quality, what with wanting to know all of human history. She'd thought at the time that this meant she could just learn everything, all at once, but that hadn't actually worked out. Incubators could be right bastards sometimes.

Still, it had ultimately been a blessing. If it weren't for her ability to accrue powers at will, she'd never have the opportunity to do all the things she'd done. The sheer flexibility she had made many things possible.

Clarisse raised an eyebrow at herself. Considering the way her powers worked, it was likely that she had an absolutely stunning telepathic and clairvoyant range at the moment. Whether or not that was _cosmic_ was an entirely different question, and certainly highly unlikely. But, with faster-than-light travel being the closest thing physics could really get to magic, maybe….

Clarisse sat up, crossing her legs and holding her hands loosely folded in her lap. It wasn't necessary for her magic, and was probably some sort of placebo effect, but imitating the gurus of old India had always been helpful for concentrating on strenuous mental tasks. Given the way things were, she just might be able to perceive something about the situation she was jumping into.

There were, essentially, two methods to clairvoyance. The method most girls went with Clarisse termed "hack and slash", due to the way images showed up as slices of reality. Single moments, captured to varying degrees of detail. A crude and haphazard way of discerning that which lay about you, in Clarisse's opinion, if occasionally useful.

No, much better, Clarisse believed, to conduct clairvoyance by way of meditation. She had been taught by a Bhikkuni, a Buddhist nun, in India when she'd visited after… oh what year had it been? 2015? 2020? She couldn't remember off the top of her head.

Well it was unimportant, ultimately. Clarisse settled into the deep trance that two years of doing nothing but meditation had taught her, and two centuries of practice had perfected.

The world shrank about Clarisse as she slipped away. She intentionally didn't do the typical things: focusing on her breathing, the beating of her heart. These were distractions. Connections to a world that, for her, didn't matter. A world that she stood apart from.

And yet, it was important to stay grounded. Humans were… human. Their souls were greater than their bodies, but so too were their bodies inseparable from their souls. To be too focused in the physicality, the way you moved and felt, was to divorce yourself from the greater whole. But losing physicality made you nothing more than a wisp, drifting in time and in space.

Light sparked on the horizon. First one, then another streak of dawn breaking onto an infinite starfield. Red and orange and gold, blossoming into purple fingers of flame that danced upwards.

A pulse, like a drop of water hitting the water above you as you lay on the bottom of a lake, the shimmering beams of light turning back and forth as the ripples progressed outwards, making the fires dance like a stand of bamboo, bending under a stiff breeze.

The light dropped away, accelerating downwards—or perhaps upwards?—in long streaks that spiraled down, down, down, until drops of ink appeared on the page, spreading outwards to mingle with the fire, but not choking it, until the blackness was everywhere and yet never wholly complete.

Clarisse's eyes glowed as she opened them, breathing slowly. Each breath wisped out streamers of purple, her magic humming as she gazed outward.

It was too far. The void stretched too far out, even with the dilation of causality that came with moving faster than light. Or not causality, precisely, but the order of things, and the way things were and would be and had been. She—

—paused, breath still slow and steady. A faint glimmer, out there, in the distance. Like a… a distant star, being born, its life cycle compressed from eons into a single fragment of time and made to shine.

Unexpected. But then again, expected. There was nothing that said other intelligent species couldn't have magical girls. And if they did, then of course they would have one around. And if that was the case, then…

Clarisse pursed her lips and blew, gently. A strand of purple wire flew out and away, straight and clean, until it reached the star far, far in the distance.

"Hello?"

* * *

"What do you mean?" asked Jaira, giving him a skeptical look. "There's being overly optimistic, but then there's being realistic, Thaleon."

"What's there to be realistic about?" asked Thaleon. "You have more experience with them than I do, I'll admit, but I find it difficult to believe that any government would play all the cards in their hand."

"The Incubators don't have a government in the same sense that we do," said Jaira. "I understand what you're saying but—"

She stopped short, blinking twice as her eyes grew wide.

"…you were saying?" asked Thaleon, his eye-ridges slowly making their way up his face.

"Shush," Jaira said, holding out a hand.

"Who is this?"

"Ah, you can hear me?"

"Yes. How did you contact me? There's no other Foundation members within range—"

"My name is Clarisse van Rossum. You are a magical girl?"

"Ye— you're a human?"

"Yes."

"Oh Goddess. Are you on planet?"

"No, this is long range telepathy."

"Wha— _how_?"

"I have… unique abilities, related to my wish's wording. What is important is that we have made contact."

"Jaira, talk to me," said Thaleon, his expression growing increasingly alarmed as his hands reached for a gun that wasn't strapped to his waist. Cursing quietly, Thaleon flicked on his omnitool, a variety of settings presenting themselves. "Come on, this isn't funny."

"Hold on," said Jaira quickly, shushing him again.

"Jaira this is not okay," Thaleon said flatly. His omnitool cycled, then blinked as it settled on the electroshock setting. Ten percent would be more than enough to snap Jaira out of it.

Well, hopefully. Magic was… not something Thaleon had any experience with.

"Just wait a bit," said Jaira. Her eyes were glassy, staring off into the distance. "I— it's something important."

"From the Foundation?"

"No."

"What then?"

"I'll explain in a bit."

Thaleon frowned. That was not a good sign. "Explain briefly then."

No response.

Thaleon readied his omnitool and flicked on active camouflage.

"Oh yes, yes, that's true," said Jaira. "What is your role? Are you qualified to speak for the humans?"

"Humanity, and no. I am here on behalf of my organization, the MSY, on a fact-finding mission, but I am also authorized to perform diplomacy based on my own judgment. That being, who are you precisely?"

"My name is Jaira T'Ari," said Jaira. "I am a senior diplomat with the Asari Diplomatic Corps and a senior member of the Phoenix Foundation. I am here to assist in negotiating a cessation of hostilities between the Turian Hierarchy and the Human Government."

"Ah, so there are different species," said Clarisse. "We have received information regarding this, but I appreciate the confirmation. You are authorized, then, to speak on behalf of the Phoenix Foundation?"

"I am," said Jaira. "Though, to be frank, it is difficult to speak at this precise moment."

"That is fair, but it is bold for a third-party species to involve itself in the matters of other species. I take it you Asari are militarily powerful, or at least have significant influence?"

"We Asari are the founding species of the Galactic Council. Our other two top-level species are the Salarians and the Turians, the later of which you have encountered. There are other species, but those three are the most important. The Turians are in an important sense the Military arm of the Council. I hasten to add that their intervention here was neither known or approved by the Council, or either of the other two species. The Council would like a permanent cessation of hostilities, so that we can have a peaceful discussion about what happened here. I would elaborate further, but this is really not the time or medium. We must also speak on magical girl matters separately."

"I understand," said Clarisse. "There is a lot of information to go through. Can we meet at all? Telepathy has poor bandwidth for this sort of thing."

"I cannot meet with you openly or leave this ship without formal diplomatic arrangements," Jaira said. "Furthermore, I would not be able to discuss Phoenix Foundation matters in any official meeting. Fortunately, I will be able to send another magical girl from my delegation as my authorized representative."

"Where will we meet?"

"We couldn't have a human ship dock without it being noticed by the Turians, and I'm not sure you would trust meeting here anyway. However, with the temporary ceasefire, I should be able to arrange to have you land as a diplomatic representative. From there, I will be able to arrange a secret meeting mediated by a team of Salarian operatives on-planet. It can be held on neutral ground."

"I see," Clarisse said. "That seems reasonable. What will be the agenda?"

"Principally Phoenix Foundation business. The overall diplomatic situation can be discussed, but no agreements can be made outside of a public meeting, for obvious reasons. To be frank, so as not to surprise you at the meeting, the Phoenix Foundation is very concerned by reports that magical powers are being openly used in combat with the Turians. While we are aware of the exigencies that brought this about, we would ask that this stop, lest it endanger us all. We are willing to guarantee the withdrawal of the Turians in exchange. That is an official offer from the Phoenix Foundation, though I cannot of course officially offer that as a representative of the Asari species as a whole."

There was a long pause.

"I see. That does seem like an important topic of discussion."

"In addition, now that we are speaking like this, would you have any objections to including a Turian magical girl at the meeting, as another representative of the Foundation? It would serve as reassurance as to the Turian side of things, but I do not want to antagonize you."

* * *

Thaleon slid behind Jaira, the Asari stock-still as she stared into the distance, and readied his omnitool. One quick shock to the buttocks should cause just enough pain to startle, without any risk of causing actual damage.

This was a combat mod, after all, and Thaleon had used it to kill before.

Electricity sparked—

* * *

"The Foundation represents multiple alien species?" Clarisse thought, surprised.

"Yes."

There was another pause.

"I will bring an escort of my own," Clarisse said. "Other magical girls. That should be fairly routine."

"Of course—"

* * *

—and jumped from omnitool to Asari buttock.

Jaira jumped with a yelp, whirling in place with a vicious right cross that, Thaleon reflected, he really should have remembered she had.

"What the _hell, Thaleon?!_ " Jaira shouted, storming towards him as Thaleon retreated quickly.

"Well, you weren't talking to me—"

"That was the _human magical girl representative!_ " Jaira hissed, biotics blooming across her clenched fists. "You just cut an extremely tentative super-long-range telepathic link!"

"Well excuse me for being worried!" snapped Thaleon. "You just told me about magic and I thought—"

Jaira restrained the urge to throw Thaleon through the wall. Of all the things he could do—!

"Okay, okay," she said, clenching her eyes shut and forcing her biotics to dissipate. "You know what, fine, that's… that's fine. You did the best thing you could think of with limited intel. That's… fine."

"What even happened that absorbed your attention like that?" asked Thaleon, shutting off his omnitool.

"Apart from that being first contact with a human magical girl?" asked Jaira. "Someone extremely senior to their organization?"

"…well when you put it that way…"

"Yes, well, fortunately we'd already hashed out all the details for a meeting," said Jaira testily, "so I need only send her an apology, telling her about my blockhead of an ex-boyfriend who is new to magic and too easily startled by things he doesn't understand."


	4. Councils of War and Peace

Ryouko found herself tearing up slightly, watching Tricia run towards her father at the doorway to the now heavily fortified IIC facility. It was impossible not to, given the sheer emotion on Tricia's face. She had waited days, long hard days of extended combat, to see her family again.

Her father looked a bit bedraggled, clothes torn in several places, but was otherwise fine.

But it was just her father.

"One of the recon drones found him hiding in the wilderness with some other survivors near their old housing facility," Nadya explained quietly to Ryouko and Asami. "With the ceasefire, it's finally safe to send some drones out to look."

"Where's Mama? Where's Alton?" Ryouko heard Tricia ask, unable to resist eavesdropping with magical hearing.

"I don't know," the man said sadly. "The artillery barrage leveled our flat. I tried looking for them, but then the aliens came and I had to run."

That set off a fresh round of bawling, Tricia's father trying to comfort his daughter while looking on the verge of tears himself.

"We asked the aliens for permission to have drones comb the ruins, but they haven't found any bodies from her family," Nadya said. "That gives hope, at least."

There was a moment of silence.

"It's also possible they're being held captive," Nadya said. "The aliens say they pulled a number of survivors out of the ruins. We're still trying to get them to send us pictures or some other form of verification. They're not telling us where they are, but we have clairvoyants looking."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?" Ryouko asked, looking carefully at Nadya. "You must have known about this for a while."

"I was hoping we could confirm what happened to the rest of her family first," Nadya said, looking down. "Hopefully in the positive, but either way we'd only have to give her one emotional shock. Instead, we just don't know."

They watched Tricia for a moment longer.

"She's resilient," Nadya said. "More than I'd expect for her age. She hasn't drained our grief cube supplies as much as I expected."

"How are the supplies?" Asami asked, turning her voice into almost a whisper. "This town is nowhere near big enough to supply all of us, and now we're cut off from most of it. Those two demon spawns didn't give us much at all."

"We had barely enough for the next few days, at the rate we were using them," Nadya said. "It's a good thing the MSY is extremely paranoid about grief cube stores or we wouldn't have even had that. We would have had to start rationing magic use soon."

"It's a good thing you remembered to bring those crates," Ryouko commented.

"Well, experience teaches you to have priorities," Nadya said, brushing aside the compliment.

"What now, though?" Asami asked. "We're still low, aren't we?"

"Clarisse is bringing everything she can in her ship," Nadya says. "That should be more than enough, for however long this is going to last. She'll be here in a couple of hours."

Tricia and her father started walking slowly towards the temporary civilian living area—frankly, just a bunch of soft objects serving as pillows laid out over a series of rooms inside the IIC complex. Cramped, uncomfortable, and a little smelly.

"Tricia, what is this I hear about some crazy magical girl stuff?" her father asked, a moment later. "I don't want to sound gullible, but the soldiers were talking about it on the way in and they seemed serious. Were they messing with me?"

Ryouko saw Tricia's face pale.

"Oh geez, excuse me a moment," Nadya said, lunging towards the two of them with long strides.

Asami's face paled a moment later.

"I haven't even thought about how to tell my parents," Asami said, voice shaken. "Now that we're all public. What am I going to do?"

Ryouko thought of all the movies and books her mother had forced her to consume, about making wishes on monkey's paws and making contracts with the devil—Faust had been a favorite. That was amusing, in retrospect, along with her mother confronting her a few days after her contract with fresh news from her MSY contacts.

"I don't know," Ryouko said. "My parents were TNC's all along—I never managed to tell you."

Asami groaned.

"Can you get your parents to talk to mine?" Asami asked. "I don't want to do it."

"I haven't told them about us," Ryouko said.

Asami gave her an odd look.

"I wasn't sure how to say it," Ryouko explained, then deadpanned: "'Hey Mom, I have a girlfriend. We do things together.'"

"I did!" Asami said, aghast.

"Well—" Ryouko began.

"Now you have something to confess too," Asami said, looking vindictive. "Talk to your parents."

Ryouko sighed, watching Tricia's father give his daughter a look that suggested she was more alien than the Turians were.

"I guess," she said.

* * *

"We're taking an awful risk agreeing to meet them like this," Nadya said, squinting up at the sunlight in an attempt to see the proposed meeting location.

"Probably," Clarisse said, pushing apart some shrubbery on her way forward. "But we can't miss this opportunity to meet our counterparts on the alien side. Given the importance they seem to place on the masquerade, there's no way they're operating in exact alignment with the invading government. And if they aren't, there's an opportunity to leverage that to our advantage."

"I'm sure they're thinking the same," Nadya said.

"Maybe," Clarisse said. "But the one I talked was pretty focused on the secrecy thing. It might even be a bigger deal to them than what happens to this planet."

"Well it's too damn late for that," Nadya said. "Have you told them that we're not exactly keeping the masquerade anymore?"

"No," Clarisse said. "I was going to save that for this meeting."

"What if they attack us?" Nadya asked.

"Then they're declaring war on the MSY, just like these Turians have declared war on Humanity," Clarisse said. "And we will see how that war goes for them."

Clarisse spoke with a note of inspiration, almost defiance, that was wholly at odds with the current situation, trudging up a mountainside in the hot, burning sun.

"Anyway," Clarisse finished, "between me at nearly at full power, the 'strongest telekinetic alive', and Isabella and Ryouko here, I think we'll make it out alive at the very least. I think—"

She was interrupted by a loud expression of rage, as Isabella the barrier generator grabbed one of the bushes, one of the thornier ones—though they _all_ seemed to be thorny—and tore it out of the ground by the roots, flinging it into the air.

The four of them stopped, staring at Isabella for a moment.

"Sorry, this climb has me frustrated," she explained.

"Well, keep yourself under control," Nadya said blandly.

To tell the truth, the climb had Ryouko frustrated too. It would have been trivial to just teleport to the meeting site, but Clarisse had insisted on hoofing it, to conceal their magical specialties. Personally, Ryouko thought it would have been trivial for the aliens to guess that they were bringing a teleporter and barrier generator, given that they were also magical girls.

They climbed the mountainside in silence for a moment. The truth was, this kind of climb was functionally trivial even for an ordinary augmented human, much less a magical girl. It was just rather… unpleasant.

They stayed silent for a while, beating their way through the brush. In retrospect, it would have been a good idea for one of them to bring something to cut brush with, but not even Clarisse seemed to have thought of it. On the other hand, it was entirely possible that Clarisse and Nadya were so old they didn't care anymore. They certainly seemed remarkably unperturbed.

Finally, they reached the summit of the small foothill, and found themselves looking down at a small clearing nestled just below. In the middle stood a single Turian, as well as an odd alien that looked like a blue human with no hair.

That was just the obvious, of course. A quick sweep of the surrounding area with more magical senses showed a large group of yet a third type of alien, hidden throughout the shrubbery. They had been warned that the two alien magical girls would be accompanied by a conventional escort, and the aliens didn't have the kind of stealth necessary to defeat magical girl eyes, or they would have already used it by now in the battle.

"We know you're there," Clarisse said, turning her head pointedly to the left. "Come on out already."

One of the smaller aliens appeared with a shimmer from the shrubbery to Ryouko's left, drawing a surprised look from her and Isabella that they quickly concealed. She realized her mistake: she had been so focused on the obvious in front of her that she didn't notice the alien right next to them, who had indeed been using mild cloaking. They had seen some of the Turians use it before, but it had rarely fooled their clairvoyants; Ryouko would have seen him if she had simply looked, but she hadn't.

Well, she supposed that was why Nadya and Clarisse were veterans.

"Come this way," the alien said, doing an impressive job of hiding its surprise. It held in its hand one of the oddly-shaped alien hand weapons, though this model was clearly different than the standard Turian weapon.

 _I'd prefer if they didn't have those weapons out_ , Isabella thought. _Even if they're not much of a threat face to face, they could still surprise us._

 _Agreed_ , Clarisse thought.

 _Kaarashi, I'd prefer if your companions here weren't so obviously on combat alert. They can stick around, but please, guns on the floor? You could defend yourselves without them, I'm sure._

Down in the camp below, the blue-haired alien turned to speak with the Turian, then said something to the other aliens. With evident hesitation, the other aliens complied, ducking into their tents and re-emerging without visible weapons. The diplomat Clarisse had contacted earlier, Jaira, had stayed in orbit, with the explanation that she was _also_ the official representative of her species, not just her magical girl organization, and could not descend to the surface without being observed.

"What is your name, if you don't mind sharing?" Clarisse asked, addressing their "escort"—who had probably been intended to follow them secretly.

"Lieutenant Valon, Salarian Special Tasks Group, at your service," the alien said, without turning his head to look back at them. "To be clear, my species is called the Salarians, although you have probably already been told this. I am giving you my name and rank as a matter of courtesy, since this is a diplomatic affair. However, as I am a covert intelligence operative, and the Turians do not know I am here, I would prefer you not to spread that information around."

"I understand," Clarisse said.

They ducked through a grove of trees, reaching the edge of the camp, which had been expertly camouflaged with leaves and branches. It wouldn't have held up to detailed scrutiny, and presumably showed up like a nova on infrared, but, as Ryouko was starting to learn, sometimes it just wasn't necessary to do more than that. Analogous to Lieutenant Valon hiding in the trees earlier, the Salarians had simply placed themselves where no one would ever look, in a location that was irrelevant to any of the Turian-Human combat. The camp was too distant to observe that combat directly, but they could simply walk to a more suitable observation position, then withdraw if they felt at risk of detection.

So Clarisse had explained to her earlier. It was… exactly the kind of thing Ryouko had expected her to know, with all the experience that she had.

They stepped their way cautiously into the center of the camp, arranging themselves in a small circle.

For a long moment, the two sides regarded each other with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

"So, I suppose we will allow you to start the discussion, since you seemed to have a more urgent agenda," Clarisse said.

"Alright," Kaarashi said. "Let us first conduct a round of introductions. You should already know that I am junior diplomat Kaarashi Dais, member of the Asari Diplomatic Corps. This is Adrea Sabudri, officially an officer of the Logistics Legion Ferrata, but who serves as our embedded agent in the Turian Fourth Fleet."

The Turian tilted her head slightly, which Ryouko had learned from Eunoe was a gesture of greeting.

"Nice to meet you," Clarisse said blandly, though she had clearly forgotten that introductions would be necessary with these aliens. "I presume you both know who I am. This is Nadya Antipova, the senior girl originally stationed on this planet. These are Isabella Bergman and Ryouko Shizuki, who were also stationed on this planet at the time of the Turian incursion."

"Which I, for one, have increasingly found to be a terrible idea," Adrea commented.

Clarisse nodded. "Quite," she said in a neutral voice.

"Let's move on to the primary topic of this meeting, then," Kaarashi said. "We have heard a number of reports, including confirmation from the Salarian operatives here"—she glanced around meaningfully at the Salarian STG forces—"that magic has been used freely in tactical combat, including in cooperation with the human military. We are of course aware of the extreme situation that prompted this, but you can surely understand the deep risk this puts our secret in. Moreover, we cannot set the precedent of magical girls operating together with the military, lest it destabilize the galactic balance of power."

The blue-skinned alien finally sucked in a breath, having finished what was clearly a prepared statement, then looked at the human girls expectantly. Ryouko and Isabella looked at the older girls nervously, wondering what the response could possibly be to that.

Clarisse closed her eyes for a long moment, making it very clear, to both sides, that she was formulating a difficult response.

"The truth is, our society is very wired," Clarisse said. "Lots of surveillance, lots of communication. There was no way magic could have been used in combat without at least the human government finding out immediately from videos and from the soldiers themselves. We were left with the choice between saving the colony and saving the secret and, with little other information to go on, we decided that, ultimately, if we were going to save the colony, secrecy would have to be sacrificed. We consulted the Incubators, and they agreed. It is a done decision at this point, with consequences we are still managing."

 _I'm not going to tell them you girls did it on your own_ , Clarisse thought, simultaneously. _Better for them to think this was a reasoned decision, after talking to the Incubators. Makes us seem more competent._

In theory, alien features should have been hard to read, but Ryouko had rarely ever seen a more obvious expression of shock.

"What? No!" the Turian, Adrea, said, mandibles working in dismay. "This is some kind of joke, or— or a scheme."

"You cannot be serious," Kaarashi echoed. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Because an alien species decided to land on one of our planets and attack us with no warning," Nadya said archly. "What were we supposed to do? Surrender to aliens to we know nothing about? Can you honestly say either of your species wouldn't have done the same in our situation?"

"But—" Adrea began.

The Turian visibly bit her tongue, and Ryouko wondered if the other alien, the apparent diplomat, had told her telepathically to stop talking.

There was a long moment of silence, shared between the Phoenix Foundation delegation, the humans, and the bemused Salarians.

"We will need a moment to process the ramifications of this," Kaarashi said, finally gathering her wits. "If you'll excuse us, I need to go talk to my superiors."

Clarisse nodded, and the two alien magical girls departed with a sweep of the arm, ducking into a tent that presumably contained a communication device.

"What now?" Isabella asked.

"Now we see how they respond," Clarisse said.

* * *

Emma had been presented with two options after she'd been woken up. The first was to lay around in bed, waiting for her arm to grow back together. There was a tank that the Military's Medical Division would have set up, allowing her to recline and watch a vid while waiting for her arm to heal. Call Ayane too, like she should probably do as a good girlfriend.

Instead, Emma had gone for option two. The cap at the end of her stump made her look a little like a cyborg from an old-timey sci-fi vid. Inside was a mixture of growth medium and cybernetic repair drones, busily preparing her stump for re-interface with the remains of her arm. It was freakish, looking down and not seeing a hand, but lying in bed was the greater of two evils.

Emma swallowed and pointedly avoided looking down and to the left as she walked out of the makeshift medical center. A few prefabbed apartments had been pulled out of storage and assembled, allowing a semblance of privacy for the patients.

"Ahoy there, Bluebird, you alright then?" asked Annalise Shepard, slinging an arm around Emma's shoulders. Emma yelped as the rest of the platoon seemed to appear out of nowhere, piling in with a raucous burst of noise.

"I'm okay," said Emma, smiling nervously at the center of attention. "They gave me this cap for my stump, and said I could go."

"Ah yeah, it's a shit deal, lying around in Medical," said one of the soldiers. "You lookin' for something to do then?"

"Well, I was hoping to maybe help, but uh…" Emma waved her stump sheepishly. "Well, I only have the one arm."

"Nah, we can find something for you to do," said Annalise. "Plenty of shit to do, right guys?"

"Ooohhh yeah," said a soldier. "Soooo much shit to do. God damn, it's a pain, but it's a painful job."

"Okay," said Emma. "Then uh, let's get started?"

"Well, you have family back home, right?" asked Annalise. "Have you called them yet?"

Emma glanced away shiftily. "I um, was hoping to avoid that actually…"

The platoon paused.

"Emma," said Annalise, pinching her nose. "Emma, do you mean to tell me you're planning on _not_ telling anyone about all this?"

"Uh…."

"Because you really should," Annalise continued, glaring at Emma. "And by really should, I mean that if you don't I will punch you hard enough that you'll have to go to Medical again. Am I clear?"

"Y-yes," Emma squeaked, quailing.

"Cool," said Annalise, whacking Emma on the back forcefully with a grin. "We'll be over at Staging Area 8, 'kay? Come on over when you're done talking."

"R-right," said Emma, nodding. The platoon moved away, conversation starting again as they walked past.

It was weird. Emma would normally have blown off anyone else's suggestion, but something about Annalise made Emma feel like she was eight years old again, watching the older football players with stars in her eyes.

Oh God, she wasn't going to do something stupid like develop a crush, was she? Emma was too old for that, and happily in a relationship already. There was nothing to worry about, right?

Shaking her head and hoping she wasn't blushing, Emma moved slowly towards an improbably standing tree.

Emma really, really didn't want to make that vid call. Truth be told, she'd been… keeping secrets from her family and from Ayane for a while now. Obviously, her family weren't trusted non-contractees, so Emma was being very hush-hush towards them, but she also hadn't told Ayane about any injuries she'd received while demon hunting.

Well, in her defense, it wasn't as if they were particularly _bad_ injuries. Emma wasn't exactly a shoddy combatant. So it hadn't really seemed like a priority to mention the burns and broken bones and occasional serious damage to an extremity. Even during the fighting with the Turians, Emma had never received a significant injury to center of mass.

She was, Emma reflected proudly, too good for that sort of thing.

But Ayane didn't really see things that way. She was a flyer, and every little injury mattered. Anything that impacted her performance made it that much easier to get hit by a demon and die. She wasn't like Emma, able to just take a hit and keep moving. Emma made sure to watch out for Ayane, when they hunted together. But that didn't mean that Ayane needed to broadcast her worries onto everyone else.

It was… not one of Ayane's most endearing traits.

A shadow crossed Emma's path. She looked up, and realized she'd stepped into the shadow of the tree she'd been wandering towards. The "tree" was technically not a tree so much as an "arboreal alien lifeform". It certainly didn't look like any tree Emma had seen in either London or Mitakihara. The "leaves" appeared broad and flat, but were actually twined structures that looked more like great, tentacly, multicolored hands than anything else. A few insects could be seen coiled inside of some leaves, the brightly colored structure clasping them in something like a fist.

Emma stalled. She watched the tree, the limbs waving in the breeze. It was an odd lifeform, all things considered. On Earth, carnivorous plants only grew in regions where the nitrogen in the soil wasn't high enough to support ordinary plant life. She had no idea why a plant would take such an evolutionary route, here on Nazra Invictus.

"Fuck."

Sighing, Emma took a seat at the base of the tree. She'd been trying to remember to toss status updates at her social network profile before crashing, to keep everyone at home updated. She also knew she hadn't been as consistent as she should have been, and had been very vague the last two posts, before the last mission.

Ayane was going to be _pissed_.

Emma dialed Ayane's number, staring at the ground as the connection authenticated across the IIC Node. There was a conspicuous pause as the connection cleared the security nodes, and then Ayane picked up.

"Oh thank God you're alright," Ayane sighed, pressing her hands against her face tiredly. "Oh God Emma you _idiot_ why have you not called more?"

"Sorry, it's… it's been difficult," said Emma, looking away. "I… the status updates got through?"

"Yes, thank goodness," said Ayane. On closer inspection, she looked exhausted. "It's been impossible to sleep. I've been sitting up with your family for days waiting for news, but Governance and the MSY are both on complete lockdown."

"Oh. You uh, met my parents then?"

Ayane looked awkward. "Well, yes. You uh, gave me your sister's number, back when we started dating? In case something happened to you?"

"Ah, yeah, I remember now," said Emma, taking a shaky breath. "Well, I mean, Anna was chill about it I guess?"

"Yes, it was a bit awkward with your family at first, but we got over it," said Ayane. "Your mom makes excellent tea, by the way."

"Ah, yeah, it's a family recipe," said Emma, grinning. "I'm glad you liked it."

Ayane chuckled tiredly, then sighed. "Anyway, yeah, it's been frightening. Your last update had us all in a panic."

"Sorry," said Emma, wincing. "I… yeah. Hush hush and all that. The Military still says I should try not to talk too much about it."

Ayane made a displeased face. "Did you get hurt? You can tell me that at least, can't you?"

"Well…"

Emma hedged, looking away from Ayane. She… the conversation would be painful, but… but it was probably worse not to tell her. Put another way, Emma couldn't imagine how she would feel if Ayane lost an arm and then covered it up. Shitty wouldn't even begin to cover it.

"I… yeah, I did," said Emma. "Not badly!" she added quickly, before Ayane could get wound up. "I mean, not badly for a magical girl. It's nothing that needs magical healing, and everyone's tired, so I went to Medical and got it checked out, it's fine."

"Fine."

"I mean, well, for a given… measure of fine?"

Emma quailed under Ayane's look of extreme displeasure.

"Where?"

"My… arm."

"How badly."

"I uh… it got cut off?"

"Emma!"

"I mean, look, we recovered it and they're reattaching it in like, a couple of hours," said Emma. She waved her hand at Ayane. "It's fine, you know medical technology can do that stuff easily."

"I— but— your _arm!_ " Ayane shouted. "You're— you can't just _lose an arm_ and be all like it doesn't matter! Argh, you stupid, _impossible_ girl!"

Emma bit her lip and looked away as Ayane paced in a circle.

Truth be told, this wasn't going as badly as she thought it would. That was a good thing. Probably.

"You know, the first thing I thought when I heard that you guys were fighting?" said Ayane. "I thought: 'fuck, Emma, not this shit again'. Why do you keep jumping into things like this?"

"I… I couldn't just sit here," said Emma, looking up at Ayane. "I— these people, they were— I couldn't just watch them die."

"But then _you_ could die," said Ayane. "I can't— I need you to—"

"I know," said Emma. "But could you honestly say you wouldn't do the same in my place?"

Ayane was silent, and took a shaky breath.

"I don't know," she replied. "I really don't. I— you're impossible. You're such an impossible, wonderful idiot Emma, but please, please don't get yourself killed doing stupid things."

"I've been doing my best to stay safe," said Emma. "I'm relatively unharmed. There's girls who took worse hits than me, and the Turians—"

— _screamed, scrabbling at the front of Emma's costume as she ran a spear out its back, then grabbed the shaft to pull through the rest of the way—_

"—were— they couldn't fight back."

Ayane paused, blinking. Emma looked down, staring at the ground.

"…Emma, you're… coming home, right?" Ayane said. "I… you're coming back to Mitakihara?"

"Y-yeah, of course!" said Emma, blinking hurriedly. "What do you mean?"

"I… I don't know, I just… I wanted to make sure," said Ayane.

They fell silent.

"I uh, I promised some of the guys I'd help them get some work done," said Emma. "So uh, I guess I'll cut this short. Tell Anna and my parents I'm sorry I couldn't call. It's still really busy over here."

"Alright," said Ayane, nodding. "I— good luck. Stay safe."

"I will."

* * *

"Whatever else happens, I know one thing," Apherus Ledra, the Salarian Chief Technology Officer of the Phoenix Foundation, said. "I know whose fault this is."

Titia Valerus, Chief Operations Officer and the Turian on the other side of the table, recipient of Apherus's obvious glare, rolled her eyes.

"Look, you can blame the Turian species if you want," Titia said, "but this isn't the fault of the Turian branch of the foundation. This attack was ordered by elements in the Hierarchy that are beyond our control, following the written procedures of our Peacekeeping Fleet. A failure of bureaucracy, nothing more."

"Speak for yourself," the Turian Chief Military Affairs Officer said. "They're the only ones who understand what has to be done to keep the peace. The actions of these aliens only emphasize this point."

"Your political leanings are well-known," Apherus said dryly. "Thank the Goddess it's just you."

She turned back towards Titia.

"Even without radicals sabotaging your operations, it is the Turian branch that consistently refuses to 'betray' their own government, and now we see the fruits of this insane policy. What do you suggest we do now? Maybe you have an idea over there, radical, hmm?"

Apherus's tone was cold, angry, and mocking, and Titia wasn't really sure she had any answer. There was no doubt the Turian Hierarchy had really shit the bed on this one, both in terms of Council politics and for the Foundation, and Apherus was correct that Turian Foundation had resisted for centuries the suggestion that they exert greater influence on Turian politics.

It was, however, anathema to dutiful Turians to suborn their own government, even if it was the for the greater good. Even the most Foundation-centric Turians had resisted these pushes from their Salarian and Asari partners.

There was a long moment of silence as Titia and the CMAO cast glances at each other, each trying to will the other to speak.

"The situation is indeed dire," their Volus Chief Financial Officer said, with the heavy breathing that characterized the Volus environmental suits. "But if we consider all the particulars, a political transition of this magnitude cannot help but create profit opportunities. That is not even speaking of the technology that can be bought from and sold to this new alien market. With these reports of exotic technology, and a species without mass effect technology, the opportunities for arbitrage are tremendous, and we would have the capability to move before anyone else."

"That's so typical of a Volus," Apherus said, turning her wrath towards the CFO. "Always thinking about the money. And what about the costs of losing secrecy?"

"We've run simulations for that for many years, as part of contingency planning," the Volus said, ignoring the speciesist insult. "It's not clear we'll lose anything, on average. Not that we'll necessarily gain, either, but for the entirety of our history, the need for secrecy has been a heavy operational cost. We'll shed that, at the very least. Much depends on what happens politically, obviously. I'm not saying we should look at this through a financial light; I'm just reassuring the board that, now that we seem pretty stuck with this outcome, we're at least prepared financially."

"I agree with our CFO here," the Asari CEO, Visanya T'naius, said. "Whatever our feelings about what happened, it is clear we must start implementing our contingency plans for this situation. We will still do whatever we can to block the spread of news, but barring Incubator intervention, it does not seem likely we will be able to prevent a masquerade break. We cannot be caught flat-footed. I don't have to tell the board that would have dire galactic consequences. There will be time for finger-pointing and a post-mortem afterward."

"I agree," the Krogan Chief Security Officer growled, looking around the table. "The situation is negative, but I think we all knew this day was going to come. There's no sense cowering under the table. However, I personally wonder what those little Incubator rats have to say about this."

" _It is no longer possible for you to block this masquerade break. Knowledge of magical girls has already penetrated the highest levels of Human government, who are already arranging with their Foundation to release the truth,"_ an Incubator said, perfectly on cue, appearing on top of Visanya's head.

The Foundation Board of Directors sat in stunned silence for a moment, not at the Incubator's sudden appearance, which was not unusual, but at the blunt content of its statement.

" _It's an unusual situation. However, not one that was unplanned for us. It's unprecedented for us to allow the masquerade to be broken, but we felt that the circumstances this time warranted it. "_

"What do you mean warranted it?" the Krogan demanded, "Or are you going to dodge this question too?"

" _The technological mixture that will occur, coupled with breaking the masquerade, will allow for the occurrence of an unprecedented opportunity for both you and us,"_ the Incubator said. _"You would not be dissatisfied with our decision, if you knew the whole picture."_

"And what does that mean?" the Krogan asked. "I suppose now you'll disappear without saying anything else."

" _You would be correct,"_ the Incubator said. It inclined its head in a show of faux-respect and slowly faded away.

"Well, I suppose that somewhat settles it," Visanya said, before the Incubator had even finished vanishing, apparently unbothered by the weight on her head. "We clearly don't have any better options then. Let's tell the diplomatic team with the humans as much."

"Do we still have to get the Hierarchy to withdraw their troops?" the CMAO asked.

"Do you think we're going to reward them for their stupidity?" Apherus asked. "The troops must get withdrawn no matter what. This whole misadventure was idiotic from the start. We'd look like hypocrites, invading an alien world for trying to activate a mass relay when they don't even have mass effect technology."

"These humans are an abomination," one of the VPs said, a Quarian who had thus far stayed silent. "Artificial intelligences, biological implantation—are they even organic anymore? How do we know they won't turn out like the Geth?"

"Because they do not _act_ like the Geth," Apherus said, casting a scornful glare at the VP. "You've surely seen the reports as much as I have. You can call me when the Geth start making contracts and holding conversations like organics. The contracts alone are probably sufficient evidence that they are organic enough."

"Maybe it's just their soldiers," the Quarian said. "Not the magical girls. But does that make it any better? Soon enough these soldiers and AIs will turn on them, and then we will have another Geth on our hands."

"You can't just be skeptical of all technology just because of the Geth," Apherus said. "The Turians have failed to understand most of the implants they found on autopsy, but the potential applications are enormous."

"You can't be seriously suggesting that we allow this technology to be distributed in Council space," the Quarian said, leaning onto the table and glaring at Apherus.

"Technology is not evil," Apherus said.

The Krogan Security Officer grunted dismissively.

"There are plenty of us who would say the genophage was an evil technology," she growled. "But who knows? Perhaps the humans will be willing to save us from the meddling of Salarian scientists."

"No one would be that stupid," the CMAO said.

"That kind of thing is exactly why it is necessary to get this technology under Council control," Apherus argued.

"Enough of this," Visanya said, voice projecting over the table to silence the gathering argument before it could start. "We will _not_ rehash these old arguments here, not when there are better things to talk about. There is a good point buried in this, though, which is that official Council policy is very negative on artificial intelligences. It does not seem like the humans will give theirs up easily."

"Council policy will just have to change," Apherus said.

"Council _policy_ will stay the same," the Quarian insisted.

"We will not start a war over this policy," Visanya said. "Not unless the humans give us better reasons. The simple truth is, if it were not for how the Geth behaved on Rannoch, we would not have treated them the way we did. We should give these humans the same benefit of the doubt."

Visanya peered over the table, at the assorted representatives of the different races. She saw in her mind's eye the many, many fault lines of the Foundation. The genophage. The wars that many on the Board personally remembered. The speciesism. The Batarians—Oh Goddess, the Batarians.

"This One believes that we must make a decision before more discussion," one of the other VPs, a Hanar, said. "Those of us here must tell those on the scene that they must continue diplomatic talks. What shall be said?"

"They must be punished," the CMAO said. "They cannot join us on even terms after breaking the masquerade like this."

"And shall we punish the Turians for starting this mess?" Apherus asked. "Their actions were justifiable. All of us can see that, even if you would like to pretend not to. We cannot open a discussion with them with talk of punishment."

Visanya looked around the table, sensing the murmurs of agreement from the Board of Directors. As inflammatory as Apherus could be, she clearly spoke for the majority in this, and Visanya could not say she disagreed.

"The consensus is clear, I think," she said. "We will continue negotiations on the basis of welcoming the humans to the galactic community _without_ special conditions, organizing the withdrawal of the Turians from this planet, the ending of human experiments on an unknown mass relay, and the restoration of peace. We can come up with further discussion points later, but is this agreed for now? Time is short."

She looked around the table again. Though some delegates looked like they wished to disagree and some looked downright furious, none seemed willing to voice it.

 _Same as it always is_ , she thought, with an internal sigh.

"So be it," she said.

* * *

At Adrea's age, she had thought she was inured to the pratfalls of life, to her younger colleagues and friends inevitably passing away, naturally or in combat. She had seen centuries of Turian history, more than any normal Turian could ever have claimed. Surely by now she was used to the cycle of life and death.

And yet when she saw Eunoe alive again, leaning against a wall in the human prison compound talking with one of the other prisoners, she felt a sense of relief she hadn't felt in a long, long time. It was one thing to read on a tablet that she was alive—though _that_ had certainly been relieving enough—but it was another to see her standing there in the flesh, those unusually-pointed mandibles of hers moving as she spoke.

The door to the ad-hoc prison wall slid open at her approach. She looked up as she stepped through, at the autoturrets, flying drones, small walking drones, and…well, many other drones that monitored the compound, either patrolling the walls or scurrying around the Turian prisoners. The humans were fantastically reliant on their robotics technology, to a degree that the galaxy hadn't seen since before the Geth had rebelled against the Quarians.

That didn't mean they left the Turians entirely to their drones, however. She could see one or two human soldiers standing guard in the far corners of the compound, including one immediately next to the doorway, who nodded at her as she passed. The human soldiers, standing taller than Krogans in their dark, faceless armor, unnerved her, in many ways strongly resembling the drones that serviced them. She knew that this resemblance was far more than skin-deep—that, from the reports, human soldiers were heavily augmented even by the standards of their already heavily-implanted civilians. One Turian report estimated that they were as much as 25% non-organic by mass—and that didn't include the genetic manipulations, which even the Salarians barely had any handle on. It was nearly impossible to tell what was native to the species and what was new—most of what they could do at the moment amounted to simply comparing the genetics of civilians and soldiers, and seeing what differed.

Just the site of the prison compound would have been enough to send a Quarian into a gasping panic attack.

Most of these prisoners looked up at her approach, escorted by two of the human magical girls, then began to stare. They had probably assumed that she was a new prisoner who had just finished her interrogation, but captured before the cease-fire—but she had too much of an escort to be merely that. The prisoners well understood how much firepower the girls next to her represented.

Then Eunoe looked up and spotted her, seeming to freeze in place for a long moment.

"Go ahead," one of the human girls said, gesturing her towards her friend.

Adrea thought for a moment about what the other girl had told her—

 _We were keeping her separate from the others for a while, but with the cease-fire we were able to place her with the other prisoners._

—then shook her head at herself. Whatever mysteries there were could be resolved by talking to Eunoe directly.

Adrea walked towards Eunoe, who stayed still, continuing to lean against the wall. Turians, as a rule, preferred to affect stoicism in public, and it would have been unseemly for either of them to show obvious signs of excitement.

Instead Eunoe merely inclined her head in greeting at Adrea's approach. Adrea returned the gesture.

"I was glad to hear you were still alive," Adrea said, opening the conversation. "The reports said you were missing, presumed dead. I was afraid I was going to have to help your family plan a funeral."

"Well, I was unable to report back, for obvious reasons, but I am sorry that you had to worry," Eunoe said, "but I am glad to see you too. I was afraid I was going to be stuck with these boring idiots—"

She paused to allow the other prisoners within earshot to jeer at her joke insult, then continued:

"—but anyway I really am glad to see you. The, um, rest of my squad didn't make it, so I really do feel a bit isolated here."

Adrea put one hand on Eunoe's back, a gesture of friendly intimacy.

"Do we have somewhere more private to talk?" she asked, turning her head to address the humans. "Away from this audience, that is."

"Sure," her escort said. "There's a meeting room we have set up I can take you too. I have to warn you, you will be recorded in there."

"And I'm not recorded out here?" Adrea said dryly, gesturing with her chin up at the human machinery that dominated the area.

The human smiled, shrugging slightly. It was one of the surprisingly many gestures these aliens shared with them.

Adrea and Eunoe moved to follow the humans. With the decisions that had been made by the Phoenix Foundation and its human equivalent, it was clear she wasn't going to be keeping her secret any longer, and she preferred Eunoe to hear the truth straight from her.

Adrea rubbed at the ring she wore on one of her hands, the only gesture of nervousness she allowed herself to show.

* * *

"Have you ever been to Europe for vacation, Yu Ping?"

The young girl shook her head, walking quietly at the side of her mentor. Fang Yu Ping had turned fourteen two weeks ago and hailed from the Sichuan locale. Mentor and student wore complimentary dresses, both stately and refined, cut conservatively to create an air of timelessness.

It also helped, in Yu Ping's opinion, to distract from the fact that she was very flat chested. She also couldn't help shake the feeling that she still looked young next to her mentor, even if they were supposedly the same physical age.

"We should visit sometime," her mentor continued. "Freed from the rigors of the past, Europe has tried to make itself the most beautiful continent in the world. It's worth taking a look, at least."

Yu Ping shook her head. "It's alright, I guess, but I miss home. You can't even see any mountains from here.

Yu Ping's mentor smiled. "But Venice has its own charm, won't you agree?"

"I suppose," said Yu Ping, looking around as they stepped onto the Rialto Bridge. The stone steps looked old, tread on by thousands and thousands of feet over the last few years. Around them, a bustling crowd of Venetians, dressed in hosiery and doublets and whatnot, added minuscule amounts of wear to the stone beneath them. Shopkeepers called out in archaic Italian, advertising fish and clothing and sundry other goods, none of which Yu Ping had any interest in, even if it had been real. "It's… I guess it's sort of cute? Like watching ants run around."

"A bit, yes," said her mentor. Her skirt swished as she led the way up the steps of the bridge. "You're too young to be talking like that, though."

"I guess if you like that sort of thing," said Yu Ping. "I personally never enjoyed this kind of historical stuff. It all seems so irrelevant nowadays."

"It can be sometimes, yes," said her mentor, pausing to examine a glass bauble. "But you know, history, traditions, and the old world are still valuable to understand, even if they have often been the source of many of the world's problems. Indeed, precisely because of that."

"I don't see how understanding human traditions helps with understanding _aliens_ , though."

"By all accounts, these aliens are more similar to humans than we ever dared expect," her mentor said, "and what little information their Council has been willing to give us suggests this even more strongly. We only have one example of a sentient, technological species, ourselves, and it is only logical to plumb our history for governmental systems that may guide us about their culture, their beliefs, and their ideology."

"Ideology?" Yu ping asked, tilting her head to imply the question.

"Ideology, yes. It may not be obvious to one as young as you, but ideology has changed this world more than any other historical force, the MSY included. Isn't Governance itself founded off of ideological notions? Indeed, most of its notions are hardly new. Liberté, égalité, fraternité, as the French would say."

They walked a little further as Yu Ping considered her mentor's words. It seemed a bit of a stretch to her. Yes, superficially, the words made a certain amount of sense, and studying history couldn't possibly be harmful, but at the same time, the example her mentor had used seemed, perhaps, problematic. After all—

"The French Revolution also killed hundreds of innocent people."

"And left the country in chaos, for a time," her mentor replied, pausing at the top of the bridge. The cupola at the Rialto Bridge's peak had four columns, holding up a domed ceiling. The left and right sides were both open, leading out to a small walkway in case you wanted to bypass all the shop traffic. The sun was setting in the simulation. The fading light glinted off of the purple crystal on her mentor's right hand.

"Yes," said Yu Ping. "I mean, it led to Napoleon, one of the worst despots in European history."

"Despot?" Homura asked rhetorically, tilting her head at Yu Ping. "That is technically true, but his legacy, and the legacy of the Revolution, was so much more than that. It is often the case that painful Revolutions like that lead to the greatest changes for good. The Unification Wars were far worse than the French Revolution."

Yu Ping shifted uncomfortably. "I… I guess. Should we really be discussing this on a Governance server?"

"Why not?" Homura asked, running a hand through her hair. She pulled through with a flick, the setting sun setting the strands ablaze with fire. A breeze appeared, blowing Homura's hair back and across. A handful settled across her face, and she combed these back with her right hand. The flash as the sun glinted off of Homura's soul gem made Yu Ping blink as the light got in her eyes. "I haven't said anything wrong."

"Well, you're older than me, so I guess you would know," said Yu Ping with a small huff.

Homura smiled. "Now you're just trying to make me feel old."

"W-well stop making me feel so young then!" Yu Ping protested, hopping up the steps and landing beside her mentor with a small floomph of billowing skirts. "Jeez. It's an honor, but sometimes I wish I got a younger mentor."

"Ah, well, it's too bad that you only get to travel the world in recompense," said Homura, patting her charge on the shoulder as they continued towards the Piazza San Marco.

"We've only ever been to, like, the Eastern Hemisphere," grumbled Yu Ping.

"And the North American West Coast."

"Well, sure, but still."

"If I recall correctly, you were very entranced by the redwood forests in California."

"W-well—"

"I even have a still of you hugging—"

" _The point_ is," said Yu Ping quickly, "it'd be more accurate to say that we just travel a lot."

"It is true that we don't end up in Europe much, these days," said Homura. The two of them turned a corner, squeezing past a very fat butcher pushing a cart full of animal parts. Yu Ping shuddered, averting her eyes. "Though, London, Paris, Berlin, Prague…"

"All the important political places."

"Yes. Hmm… I wonder if I can shift my schedule a bit so we can visit some of the more cultural locations? Lyon, Venice…"

"If we have the time," said Yu Ping. She scowled at the sky. "Which we probably won't, on account of our friendly neighborhood vigilantes in space. Why did they think this was a good idea?"

"You've read the reports, Yu Ping," Homura gently chastised.

"I still don't agree with them."

"It's not your family out there being attacked by aliens," Homura said. She sighed, looking off into the distance. "Many would do whatever they could to protect their loved ones, everything else be damned. In time, you will understand that."

Yu Ping looked away from her mentor. Homura was like that sometimes, voice distant, almost as if she was talking about another world. Yu Ping wondered if she would be like that too, when she was old.

They walked in silence through the narrow streets, eventually passing under a tiny archway into the Piazza San Marco. On their left was the monumental Basilica Cattedrale Patriarcale di San Marco. Its five round, arched portals were braced on each side by great marble columns, each column itself seemingly composed of a multitude of pillars. Mosaics of precious jewels and gold leaf adorned the facade alongside sculptures of fine marble. Biblical tales and Catholic saints stood in state, depicted in a fashion no modern artist would ever think to depict them. What were these tales and people, except the mouldering artifices of long past history? Why venerate and uplift them in such extravagant fashion? It was all very pretty to look at, but ultimately meaningless in the long arc of human progress.

"Bloody hell."

"It _is_ rather extravagant, isn't it?"

"Just… _ew_."

"Well, I don't think it warrants quite _that_ reaction," said Homura, leading the way again.

"Of course it does. It looks like somebody decided that gold leaf was the only way to express how stupidly rich you were."

"That is largely because gold leaf _was_ the only way to express how stupidly rich you were, back in the 1400s," said Homura with a small smile. "Our distant ancestors weren't _entirely_ crazy. In fact, some historical studies suggest that there was a very active gold/grief cube trade for a long time throughout the world."

Yu Ping grumbled quietly as she followed her mentor into the Basilica. The interior was just as… she hesitated to call it "gaudy", but the sheer volume of gold was, in her mind, in incredibly poor taste.

"Ah, Homura, Yu Ping, you're just in time," said Yuma, stepping out from behind a pillar. She wore a business suit, severely cut, and struck an imposing figure for her small stature. A single lapel pin stood out, the shooting star of the MSY vibrant against black silk.

"Of course we are," said Homura, nodding. "Technology offers many conveniences, as I'm sure you know."

"Of course. Are you all prepared?"

Homura glanced at Yu Ping. The young mage nodded.

"We are."

"Then let's head inside to the sanctuary. Officially, I have no stake in this conversation. Unofficially…"

"This is no different than trying to stop the Shizuki and Kuroi from eating each other's heads," said Homura, gesturing for Yuma to lead them. "Although in this particular case, we find ourselves in the unusual position of being one of the two."

"Doesn't that mean that we _aren't_ in an analogous situation?" said Yu Ping as they walked. "After all, it's not like the Shizuki or the Kuroi are ever capable of extending actual olive branches."

Homura laughed. "Perhaps, yes. But then, we can always hope."

The doors to the Sanctuary creaked as they opened. The interior no longer resembled a church, in the strictest sense. Instead, the pews had been turned and pushed to the sides, a long table taking up the center of the room. At one end was the altar, standing empty of all adornment. At the other was a single chair, fashioned out of wood, and made to be comfortable but plain. Similar chairs stood at six other places along the sides of the table. Each was occupied by one of the members of the Directorate, or at least those who could still hold their position. Yuma conspicuously sat amongst the pews, instead of at her place at the table.

"Welcome, Akemi Homura," said _Artificial Intelligence_ , "and… guest."

"This is my aide, Fang Yu Ping," said Homura. "She will be here for this discussion. I trust there will be no problems with that?"

"Of course not," said _Health and Happiness_. "It _is_ standard protocol after all. I trust that you have enjoyed yourself in the simulation? We chose to open it early precisely as something of a welcoming gesture."

"We did, thank you," said Homura, taking her seat gracefully. Yu Ping came to stand at her left hand. "My staff and I had a lovely walk through the Rialto Bridge. The Grand Canal is truly spectacular during sunset."

"But of course, you have seen it before," said _Science and Technology_. "A person of your age must have traveled the world as well."

Homura laughed quietly. "Yes, of course, but 21st Century Venice was very much a tourist city. A simulation of 15th Century Venice, in all of its finery and glory, is very much appreciated."

"Remarkable how a city's power will change with the years, isn't it?" asked _Military Affairs_. "The Venetian Arsenal used to be famous as one of the largest, most powerful industrial complexes in history."

"And responsible, of course, for Venice's power and influence," said Homura. "But then, times change, along with people and the power they wield."

"Indeed."

"In any case, we are here today to, essentially, meet and greet the Mahou Shoujo Youkai," said _Artificial Intelligence_. A Latin chant started up somewhere in the distance. "We are all familiar with the basics by now, but it would be useful to hear it again from you. What are you, as an organization?"

"We are a variety of different things," said Homura. "I understand that this is vague, but it is also the truth. The MSY—we go by the acronym in most contexts—started as a mutual aid group, to work for the betterment of the lives of magical girls in our city."

"And then you grew," said _Colonial Affairs and Colonization._

"And then we grew," said Homura, nodding. "What started as a couple dozen magical girls, banding together to survive in a dangerous world, grew into an organization that spanned much of Japan. We established logistics and communications, then took over the Yakuza and used it for our own purposes. We expanded to China, Southeast Asia, and the North American West Coast, making sure that all the girls under our umbrella could live safely and relatively happily. We established, and continue to have, psychiatric and financial support for those who need it."

The Directorate paused, collectively.

"This raises more questions than it answers," said _Artificial Intelligence_. "That is not more enlightening than the original answers we received."

Homura inclined her head. "I am open to questions, of course."

"How extensive is your reach?" asked _Military Affairs._

"Yuma is our most highly placed member," said Homura. "We have many throughout Governance and the rest of human space in most, if not all, sectors of society."

"All sectors, huh," said _Manufacturing and Distribution._ "And how literally should we take this claim?"

"As literally as you are willing to take it," said Homura.

"Hmm," _Military Affairs_ vocalized, not a pleased noise.

"Then what of your funding?" asked _Manufacturing_ _and Distribution_. "You mentioned the Yakuza. Did you turn to crime, before the Unification Wars?"

"Technically," said Homura. "The vast majority was white collar. Nothing the hyperclass didn't engage in later under a more legal guise."

"Fair enough."

"And of course, the Colonies are permeated with magical girls," said _Colonial Affairs_ with a sigh. "Nazra Invictus is plenty of evidence for that."

"Yes, that would be accurate," said Homura.

"Then we stand with a potential insurrection at the gates," said _Military Affairs._ "Even if you do not mean us harm now, you cannot deny the potential the MSY has to create such a disruption."

"We have no intention of doing so," said Homura. "It is well within the interests of the MSY to maintain peace. If nothing else, it would be unnecessary and cruel to uproot the lives of so many girls across human space. It is a time of conflict, and of alien conflict. I would say this really isn't the time to fight amongst ourselves."

"As long as we show unity," _Military Affairs_ said, tone neutral but meaning clear.

"Paranoia is a form of caution," said _Health and Happiness_. "but often creates as many problems as it solves. Remember the lessons of history."

"Governance is all about paranoia," noted _Public Opinion_. "But also all about rational decision-making. One problem at a time, though we may all plan for the future."

"Indeed," _Military Affairs_ said, in a tone that suggested he would be doing plenty of planning.

The table was silent for a moment. Yuma coughed awkwardly.

"Not to mention that it is clear that the MSY has fingers in things ranging far beyond those of us who have gathered here today," said _Colonial Affairs_. "We ought to convene a second, larger meeting, with perhaps an actual agenda to start negotiations?"

"We would be amenable to that," said Homura, inclining her head.

"In that case, what are your basic demands?" asked _Artificial Intelligence._ "A starting point, something we can build off of."

"The MSY demands only that it, and its members, be recognized as autonomous," said Homura. "We have existed as such for many years without revealing ourselves, and _without_ , I would note, stepping on Governance's toes. We have made no aggressive actions, nothing that disturbed the peace, and only so much infiltration as was necessary to hide our presence."

"I'm sure the new _Public Order_ will have much to say about that," _Military Affairs_ said. "Autonomous, yes. I suspect anything additional will be a matter of much debate."

The other Governance AIs shrugged. It seemed that autonomy had already been agreed upon, in some manner. What exactly that meant, however…

"Very well," said _Artificial Intelligence._ "We shall see what we can do, Akemi Homura."

* * *

It was, Septimus reflected, a singular experience to be sitting across the table from your would-be assassin. He recognized this Nadya Antipova. He'd only seen a glimpse of her face in the attack, but it was enough. As preliminary negotiations went, this one was certainly a career first. All things considered, he would have preferred not to have had to conduct these negotiations with a jaw mask.

Speaking of that…

"You fight well," Septimus complemented, talons folded in front of him as he stared Nadya down. "Excellent grasp of command and tactics. Do you have military training?"

"To an extent," said Nadya. "I've been involved in many… policing actions."

"Ah, 'police'," said Septimus, nodding. "I understand. From my experience, police actions are often far more difficult than actual war, even if the body counts are lower. At least in war, the lines are clear."

"Are they?" Nadya asked. "We were at war, and I tried to kill you, and here we are talking about it."

Septimus smiled.

"War? This is hardly a war."

"Really?"

"If you had asked me before I got here, I would have said this was a police action, not a war."

"How exactly do you make a mistake of _that_ magnitude?" Nadya asked. "I would think standard procedure would involve at least talking to the colony you're attacking first."

"Why would that be?" asked Septimus rhetorically. "There is no precedent for anything of that nature. Even if there were such a precedent, what use would it have?"

"You killed—"

"And you fought," said Septimus, tapping a talon against the table. "Please, Ms. Antipova, do not misunderstand me. I have great respect for the human willingness to fight for their home. But realistically, a battle requires two sides, at least."

"You're claiming that it's _our_ fault for resisting?" asked Nadya incredulously. "You showed up in _our_ space without any notice, ripped apart an AI, and dropped a fully armed army onto our planet with the slightest provocation! We had tanks rolling towards a population center of only five hundred thousand people! How is this a reasonable course of action?"

"You would argue it would be better to send in a smaller force, yes?" asked Septimus. "A strike team, perhaps, with negotiators?"

"Of course!"

Septimus's gaze darkened. "There have been occasions in the past where that has ended poorly."

He looked the alien in the eye.

"The truth is that we Turians, as a species, have been depended on as the peacekeepers and policers of the galaxy for many years. Time and time again, we have used restraint, and found ourselves embroiled in large conflicts that we barely were able to contain."

Septimus paused, jaw tightening briefly. He thought of the jar of ashes his parents kept in the place of honor over the mantel. They belonged to his grandfather.

"It has only ever been through the swift and decisive action of our officer corps that we have maintained our military hegemony in a galaxy where truly heinous deeds have been seen and combated. Call it arrogant, if you wish, but it is what it is. I am proud to serve a force with such an esteemed history, and will take from my predecessors what lessons I think appropriate for the situation at hand."

Nadya folded her arms on the table. "You would rather destroy one colony for the sake of having an easier fight."

"I would rather destroy one colony in the hopes of preventing a wider conflict," said Septimus sharply. "Do not insult me, Ms. Antipova. You ought to know that a single decisive blow is often all that is necessary to prevent a war from escalating to the point of total destruction."

Nadya shifted uncomfortably, and leaned back as well.

"I have often been that decisive blow," she conceded. "But is that really applicable to this situation?"

"I would argue that it is," said Septimus, relaxing. He sighed, wondering how much he could tell the alien. "Although, speaking candidly, the more honest thing to say would be the Turian Hierarchy has political factions, and a cumbersome bureaucracy, and I seem to have been sent out by rules from a faction that wanted the galaxy to see more Turian… proactiveness. This operation is not to my taste."

"Nor would it be mine," Nadya agreed, eyes narrowing. "I greatly prefer a lowered body count in comparison to this 'decisive blow' you talk about. Even a limited war is a far inferior proposition to no war at all. Humanity has seen large conflicts that consumed our planet. There are those older than me who have participated in these wars, and they have never spoken well of the experience."

"As well they should not," Septimus said, nodding. "Let us speak of other matters, as I suspect we will only disagree further. Shall we conclude, if nothing else, that we have much to learn about each other's species?"

Nadya nodded. "That is fair, Legate. I'll take that."

Septimus nodded. "Now, you mentioned those older than you. If you do not mind me asking, what is the lifespan of your species? Across the galaxy there is a considerable range—the Asari live to be a millennia old, whereas the Salarians rarely live longer than fifty."

One of the first orders of diplomatic business had been to sort out the units of time used by the humans. Gratifyingly, their planetary year was close to the galactic standard year, so Septimus could speak freely without having to perform unit conversions in his head.

The human tilted her head.

"An interesting question," Nadya said. "The base human lifespan, just before the advent of longevity-enhancing treatments, was about a hundred. There are those of us with special powers that have been alive for over five centuries. The most important point, however, is that, with implants, there is no expected upper limit on human lifespan."

Septimus made a facial expression he hoped the human would understand.

"No upper limit? Does that mean—"

His omnitool started beeping urgently, interrupting his question. He grunted in annoyance, raising his forearm and pushing the "respond" button.

"What is it?" he asked.

"We're detecting severe anomalies across our sensor arrays, sir." It was the captain of Septimus' flagship, Marinus. The experienced fighter sounded coolly confident. "All fields."

Septimus nodded even as his blood chilled. "I see. Have you performed an eezo sweep?"

"I have sir, nothing except the planet beneath us. We'll want to try and see if the aliens will give us any mining rights."

Septimus chuckled. "A poor moment for trade negotiations, I think, Captain Marinus. You've informed Tribune Vitellius?"

"Yes sir."

"His response?"

"He told me to contact you," said Marinus. "Then began fiddling with his omnitool. I'm not sure what he's doing."

Septimus aggressively schooled his expression and glanced at Nadya. The assassin was very carefully not paying attention, working on something on her… well, he supposed it must be some sort of visual implant.

Obviously, she was recording every bit of the conversation she could hear.

"If you'll excuse me," Septimus said, stepping back from the table to a corner of the room.

Nadya raised an eyebrow but didn't comment.

"Conference call," said Septimus, switching to subvocal and hoping Nadya could not hear him. "Bring Vitellius into this."

"Yes sir."

A brief pause, then Vitellius' name flashed twice as he logged in. "Legate."

"Tribune Vitellius, you've heard the news?"

Vitellius took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "Yes sir. I've been looking over the sensor data."

"Your conclusions?"

"I believe the enemy fleet is approaching," said Vitellius. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

"Agreed. Your plan?"

Vitellius paused. It felt like he was gathering himself. Septimus supposed that was natural, given the chewing out he had received earlier, and the clear expectation Septimus was placing for good _answers_.

"Sir, I propose that we withdraw the fleet."

Septimus felt his brow-plates nearly pop off his face in the most literal of fashions. Carefully, he made sure the glue from the medical personnel hadn't delaminated before responding.

"You propose withdrawing our fleet," said Captain Marinus calmly. "Sir, with all due respect, _are you suicidal?_ "

"I am not," said Vitellius. "If the main objective of this encounter is to avoid open war, then we cannot be in a threatening position when the enemy fleet enters the system."

"If I were a fleet commander responding to an embattled Turian Colony, I would enter the system with my dreadnoughts already firing," interjected Marinus. "A fleet out of position in the way you suggest would be annih—"

"The point I am making is not military, but political," Vitellius said, voice shaking slightly. "If they do that, then clearly they were never interested in peace, and we would have the justification we needed for the Council to bring the full weight of the Turian Hierarchy upon them. If, on the other hand, they refrain, then we have quietly taken some of the moral high ground back, and have a starting point for negotiations."

"As well as have risked major casualties and forced us to retreat immediately," Marinus countered. "The ground troops would be entirely lost to Spirits-only-know what would come next."

"I know," Vitellius said, quietly, then again: "I know. But from what we've seen, these aliens do not have the martial traditions of discipline we have, and we do not really know how their government is constructed. If we get embroiled in a war that appears to be our fault, it will seed disunity in the Council. I am sure we would win militarily, but politically…"

Both Septimus and Marinus considered the matter. It was a reasonable point, if not one that either found particularly palatable.

"On the other hand," continued Vitellius, "if it's clear we were trying to make peace and the aliens betrayed that, then the Council would back us to the hilt. I would prefer having allies, even at the cost of casualties and, well, reputations."

Silence.

Vitellius was essentially proposing they take a political gamble, making sure they won the war, if there was to be one, even at the cost of one battle. For Vitellius and Septimus personally, it was also politically very risky. Within the Turian hierarchy, there were very few that would ever blame them for taking the safer, more provocative option. What Vitellius was proposing would leave them completely isolated if they were wrong, pariahs who would probably lose their commands.

But it was arguably better for the Hierarchy as a whole, and if Septimus had to resign in disgrace, Marinus would be a suitable replacement. And he couldn't help but notice that Vitellius had made an argument that put _his_ political career in substantial risk too, even as he used a talent for politics Septimus hadn't known he had, not that he would ever have had the chance to find out.

"Marinus, any additional thoughts?"

"It sounds like madness," said Marinus. "It would leave the ground troops undefended. But, on reflection, it has a certain kind of genius too."

"Explain."

"Consider that it is the least expected move our fleet would make," said Marinus. "It's suicidally stupid after all. In fact, it's so suicidal, it might be a trap."

"I wouldn't attack in that situation," said Septimus, grasping the point. "Not when I had no idea what technology I was facing."

"Nor would I," said Marinus. "I would wait and do more surveillance. And that gives the diplomats more time to get into the system, and gives us an opening to propose a ceasefire."

"If it pans out that way."

"Yes."

Further silence.

"Tribune Vitellius, I must admit that you have surprised me," said Septimus with a sigh. "It is my opinion that you are not wrong. Begin your fleet operations immediately."

"Yes sir."

"Captain Marinus, I will not be returning to the ship," Septimus continued. "If I die, you are promoted to Brevet Tribune. Work with Vitellius and make sure this conflict works out for the galaxy."

"Sir, you can't be—"

"That is final, Captain," said Septimus. "Do you understand?"

"…Acknowledged, sir."

"Very good."

Septimus muted his omnitool and returned to the table, where Nadya was still seated politely. As he sat back down, he found himself abruptly struggling to think of topics worth speaking of.

"If I recall correctly, your species' implants are capable of resolving chirality incompatibility, yes?" said Septimus. "Something you mentioned on the way here."

"Yes, that's true," said Nadya. "The amino acids are broken down and recombined as necessary. Why do you ask?"

"As I am now here and not leaving," said Septimus, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "I wonder if it wouldn't be possible for you and me to share a drink. Poisons are ineffective against you anyway."

"Oh? " said Nadya. "I suppose. Though if you're asking for a delivery—"

"No, that won't be necessary," said Septimus. He flicked something on his omnitool, then reached up to his breastplate. One of the plates hissed, then popped into his hand. "You see, as a fleet officer, I have certain privileges. One of them is the ability to customize my armor."

"And so you have a flask of liquor on you at all times," said Nadya, nodding approvingly. "Very nice, Legate."

A drone flew in and deposited two glass tumblers. Septimus reached across and poured a measure of liquor into each. He slid one across to Nadya.

"A toast," he said, raising his glass. "To not being captured as a prisoner of war."

Nadya chuckled. "To not being a prisoner of war."

The Turian liquor was astringent and grassy, with the aroma of… pears? Decidedly odd. But sweet, and not unpleasant.

"Well," said Septimus, setting down his drink with a sigh. "Now we wait."

* * *

By Marinus's estimation, Vitellius was a bit young for his job. He and the other section commanders of the fleet were all present in hologram form at a conference call, listening intently as the Vitellius outlined his plan. The Tribune was, Marinus thought, at least suitably composed for the situation.

"We will withdraw in three waves," said Vitellius, wrapping up the explanation from his command ship, the _Valeo_. "Wave One will consist of half the main battle fleet, led by Commander Zenai. Sections Four through Six will establish a defensive cone. Wave Two will be the logistics fleet, led by Commander Verianna. We will be most vulnerable at this time, so it is imperative that you move quickly. Sections One through Three, led by myself, will bring up the rear to close the shell. Any questions?"

The assembly was silent. Vitellius glanced at each member once to confirm, then nodded.

"Very well, dismissed."

The other holograms winked out, leaving only Vitellius and Marinus in the call. Vitellius breathed a very deep sigh, leaning on the railing surrounding the projectors on the _Valeo_ , his hands passing out of the hologram projector and leaving his hologram missing half its arms.

"Nervous, Tribune?" asked Marinus quietly.

Vitellius huffed a laugh. "Does it show, Captain?"

"Not particularly sir," said Marinus. "A good presentation, though I couldn't tell if the silence was from horror or from lack of questions."

"Well, we will find out, won't we?" said Vitellius. He paused, looking thoughtfully at the empty projector plates, then straightening. "We should get going."

"Yes sir."

The conference winked out. Marinus stepped out onto the commander's deck, the many stations sweeping out in an arc about the raised surface. Marinus's first mate nodded to him, saluting briefly before returning to his station. Everything was quiet as the ship's many processes ticked over smoothly, with no alerts.

The best sort of operation was the quiet sort.

"Attention," said Marinus as he took his place at the head of the command deck. The raised plinth he stood on gave him an excellent view of each console for each section of the bridge. By the time he'd finished the last syllable, the entire bridge had come to a complete halt to give him their fullest attention. Marinus smiled to himself. They were a good crew.

"Bridge crew of the _Endurance_ , listen up," he said. "Give me a go/no-go for start. Weapons."

"Go."

"Propulsion."

"Go."

"Shields."

"Go."

"Navigation."

"Go."

"Medical."

"Go."

"Power."

"Go."

"Structures."

"Structures go."

"Comms."

"Comms are go."

"Telemetry."

"Go."

"Consumables."

"Go."

"Fleet Command."

"We are go, captain," said Marinus's first officer.

Marinus nodded and keyed fleet-wide communications. "Fleet, this is Captain Marinus of the flagship _Endurance_ , we are go for the operation."

"Roger that," said Commander Zenai. "Section Four has completed checks and will begin burn to initial positions. Stand by for the burn."

A hologram of Tribune Vitellius appeared on the railing of Marinus's command station. "Captain Marinus."

"Tribune."

Commander Zenai interrupted: "Section Four to Fleet, we are go for the burn. Executing now."

Vitellius and Marinus turned to their respective master display screens. On the _Endurance_ , it had flipped to showing a model of the system. Section Four was executing its required burn normally, the ships moving in perfect unison just as they were all trained. Section Five, then Six, followed rapidly behind, each falling into their place in the shell.

"Well executed, Wave One," said Vitellius. "Wave Two, status?"

Marinus tuned out Commander Verriana's response and turned to his crew. "Telemetry, status update."

"All arrays showing previous perturbations," replied the Telemetry Officer. "Average amplitudes are holding constant, but standard deviation has increased."

"Understood, thank you Telemetry." Marinus tuned back into the conversation between Verriana and Vitellius.

"…no anomalies to report, Tribune," Commander Verriana was concluding. "We are go for the burn."

"Very well, Commander, you may execute when ready,"

"Roger that, stand by for the burn."

The Logistics Fleet moved more slowly, the heavy tankers and supply vessels unwieldy compared to the combat vessels. Still, it was expected.

"Captain, Telemetry."

Marinus and his first officer glanced at each other.

"Go ahead Telemetry."

"Captain, I'm picking up something on long range gravimetrics. Strange displacements that don't make sense."

Marinus grit his teeth. "Anything more definitive, Telemetry?"

"No sir, the best I can get is a timelapse of the data," said Telemetry. "Going to the master screen… now."

A tensor field representation of the local space-time continuum appeared on the master screen.

"…That is some very strange data," remarked Marinus's first officer.

"The amplitude agitations are increasing," said Telemetry, marking out the sectors on the field. "You can see how—"

A klaxon sounded.

"Radiation warning," said Medical. "Captain, I have multiple wavelengths appearing in a plume—"

"Telemetry!" Marinus snapped. "Range and bearing to center of the radiation plume."

"523 by 023," Telemetry replied.

"Propulsion, all engines to maximum," Marinus ordered. "Navigation, plot an intercept—"

"Sensor contact! Vessels detected off the starboard bow," Telemetry reported. "Bearing 023, 025, 019—"

"Shields up, all stations to red alert," Marinus said, continuing his chain of commands as the ship rumbled. There was a deep, powerful vibration as the engines kicked into maximum power. "Fleet, _Endurance_ , enemy ships inbound. Repeat, enemy ships—"

"Incoming!"

Marinus braced, grabbing the railing just before the ship pitched as if in high seas.

"What the hell was that, Telemetry?" asked Marinus.

"I— I don't know sir," Telemetry answered. "I— some sort of gravity weapon?!"

"Shields at 95% and recovering, sir," said Shields before Marinus could ask. "It's not a kinetic weapon."

"Structures?"

"No damage," said Structures. "It— why would they fire something that doesn't do any damage?"

"More incoming, Captain!"

The ship rattled. How much energy was in those rounds? To make a _dreadnought_ pitch and roll like an atmo-fighter in a hurricane required unfathomable amounts of power.

"Weapons, prepare firing solutions," said Marinus grimly. "Master display to combat mode."

The tension on the bridge palpably increased as the master display switched views, displaying the Turian fleet as viewed from a convenient vantage point somewhere far from the action. Friendly ships of the Turian fleet, too small to be visible to the bridge crew on the holographic view, were instead overlaid with simple geometric shapes that indicated their fleet role. The shapes were also sized accordingly, though not to scale, so that the large hexagons of the _Endurance_ and the _Valeo_ were shown accompanied by a bevy of smaller diamonds, squares and, at the smallest level, triangular fighters. The planet they orbited loomed in the background, and on one side of the fleet could be seen a multitude of Logistics Fleet ships, circles, still in the process of peeling away even as their escorts clearly began to adopt battle formation.

The display was color-coded, too, and at the moment everything on the screen was a friendly green. Marinus had a feeling it wasn't going to stay that way.

He squinted at the screen. Was it his imagination, or—

"Sir, the Logistics Fleet is reporting substantial difficulty with maneuvering to leave the area," Comms said. "They are encountering significant gravity distortions pulling them back toward the main fleet, resembling some kind of powerful gravity well."

Marinus swore under his breath. So that was their game.

"Can they break out of it?" he asked.

"Yes, but only slowly. With engines at maximum, they can only manage a crawl, and the distortions make FTL unsafe. They report the distortions are at least slowly dispersing."

 _It won't be fast enough_ , Marinus thought.

Before he could say it, his prediction came true, the screen lighting up with a sudden horde of unidentified alien vessels highlighted in yellow, triangles and squares and diamonds and a near-wall of dots that represented alien drones—a recent addition, as Turian tactical computers had not previously considered objects that small to be significant. Marinus mentally tabulated the increasing alien fleet strength as it climbed, though of course comparing fleets with unknown technology based purely on size was a risky affair. It was still not a match for the Turian fleet—

No less than four dreadnought class vessels appeared on the screen, ominous hexagons instantly changing the complexion of the alien fleet.

"Orders from the _Valeo_ ," shouted Comms. "All ships to hold fire."

Marinus muttered a curse under his breath.

"Understood, charge cannons but _do not_ _discharge_ ," he ordered. "I want firing solutions and escape vectors plotted and locked in. We don't know what they're capable of and I'm not sitting here like poultry waiting to be cooked."

"Understood sir!"

The enemy ships kept arriving, a cloud of target blips shifting and rolling into formation. The longer they waited, the more their enemy prepared for its assault. Marinus grit his mandibles as he searched the enemy formation for a weak spot. Maybe—

And then another ship appeared, a giant hexagon bigger than anything else on the screen, and Marinus had to step forward to get a closer look at just what was going on.

"At _least_ 8 km in length," Telemetry started reading out. "With what looks like a spinal cannon. It's got the mass to match—"

"Show me," Marinus said, pointing at the screen. "Split-screen, give me whatever visual you can, along with infrared or whatever else you think appropriate."

Dutifully, a video appeared on-screen on the right side, enhanced with all the little adjustments it took to make a visual representation of a starship useful—computer generated lighting, zoom, structural overlay, and so forth. In many ways it looked like a standard dreadnought, with its high aspect ratio and enormous, spinally-mounted mass driver. Certainly nothing Turian-built, but the general design principles were clear.

Except the size measurements, of course.

The infrared overlay appeared a moment later, and Marinus furrowed his brow in puzzlement.

The average dreadnought practically glowed in infrared. It had to, because the equipment and crew necessary to service a vessel of that size—not to mention sustain the crew itself and keep the atmosphere livable—output tremendous amounts of heat. This vessel, though, was incredibly cold—outside of a few hotspots and the obviously massive engines, its surface wasn't terribly warmer than the depth of space itself.

"It could be that the aliens _need_ to have a ship that size to fire dreadnought-class projectiles, sir," Power suggested. "After all, non-mass effect methods of accelerating a projectile must be woefully inefficient. The size of the alien vessels could simply reflect inefficient technologies."

"Yes, but imagine the sheer size of the economy it must take to make a vessel of that size, _without_ using mass effect fields in the manufacturing process. Image the size of the shipyards that must be involved. I'm not sure even the Asari could do it if they tried."

"Well, we've never _had_ to try, sir," Power said. "If—"

"Captain, Tribune Vitellius is calling for you," broke in Comms.

Marinus nodded, and waved for Comms to patch the general through.

"I don't have to ask if you're reading this," Vitellius said, voice emanating from the screen, though the video was suppressed in favor of showing the fleet and the alien ship. "The specialists here think the alien ship is this big to compensate for their lack of mass effect technology."

"We had thought the same, sir," Marinus said. "I don't derive much comfort from it, though."

"Indeed," Vitellius said. "The belief here is that the reason the alien ship is cold is that most of it is ablative armor of some sort. Why would the aliens think they need armor like _that_?"

Marinus suppressed the urge to swallow, as he realized the obvious.

"To defend against whatever it is they launched as a warning shot," he said. "Something like that could have only come from this monstrosity's main gun, and it was off the scale."

"We've tried hailing the alien fleet, but we have not received a response from them. I wanted to hear your opinion, as a veteran captain, of how we would fare if it came to shooting."

Marinus glanced at the fleet status screen, weighing what to say in his head.

"Contact between unknown technologies is difficult to predict, sir," he said, "but I can promise we will make a good show of it. Big and strong doesn't necessarily beat small and faster, if we turn out to be faster. I would worry about all those drones just as much, though."

"Spoken like a true Turian," Vitellius said. "However, we are not in combat yet, even if they won't respond."

"Yes," Marinus agreed. "They did not come in firing, except for that warning shot. I would expect—"

"Sir, sorry to interrupt," Comms said. "But the alien fleet has begun some kind of broadcast."

There was a brief pause, before Vitellius spoke: "Well, let us listen then."

"Turian fleet," the voice said, piped through their universal translator. "I know you can understand this, so let us mince no words. Your unprovoked aggression and callous disregard for the lives of our civilians has been noted. It will not be suffered to stand. You will surrender your forces on the ground and withdraw your fleets, and you will surrender to stand trial the murderers who committed the illegal execution of the AI on our science station, including _all_ of the officers responsible. Any less will be considered a declaration of war. You have one of your standard days to comply."

There was silence on the bridge for a moment.

"That was it, sir," Telemetry said, verifying the end of the broadcast.

Marinus snorted as Vitellius said what they were all thinking:

"Mince no words indeed."

* * *

The stock markets were crashing.

That was the least of their problems, but Councillor Tevos usually found it oddly soothing to watch the fluctuations of the market, those oscillating numbers on the screen abstracting away the trials and tribulations of material reality into a world of pure numbers, a world forever confident in its own ability to solve all problems with the wisdom of the market.

Unfortunately, today that market was uniformly pointed downward, serving only as a reminder of the storm that seemed destined to break over the galaxy once more.

Tevos turned off her tablet in disgust, focusing her attention back to the meeting that was supposed to be her primary focus.

"The Council cannot be seen backing down from an alien ultimatum like this, no matter how powerful their fleet appears," Turian Councillor Sparatus was saying. "Giant dreadnought or no, we must hold our ground and press for negotiations. We cannot start negotiations with a pre-emptive concession."

"The Council _also_ rules by respect, not fear," Tevos said. "We will lose nothing by conceding when obvious mistakes have been made. This is a golden opportunity to bring a powerful new species into the Council, and we should not lose it by being obstinate about our mistakes."

They had long passed the point of blaming the Turians for their mistakes. For better or worse, the Council was in this together, and other than file protests with Sparatus about Turian behavior, all they could do at the moment was try to be productive. There would be time later to address potential modifications to Turian command structure.

"Do we even _want_ to bring a species like this into the Council?" Sparatus asked, shaking his head slightly. "The reports we've received indicate a species that is _very_ much in violation of Council regulations regarding the use of robotics and artificial intelligence. Even if the incident with the Mass Relay was a mistake, there's no way we can overlook that in light of past Council decrees."

The Salarian Councillor, Valern, shook his head in turn.

"Robotics, cybernetics, and Artificial Intelligence are all valuable technologies, with the potential to revolutionize the galactic economy," Valern said. "The experience with the Geth has shown us the potential for disaster, but there are many technologies with the potential for disaster that have proven controllable—nuclear energy, for example. The Salarian Union has always viewed the Council Decrees on Artificial Intelligence as a temporary measure, a warning for those considering performing research, but the Union has never stopped trying to think of alternatives. If there is a species out there that has mastered the problem, then there is no reason we cannot welcome them with open arms, and exchange their technology for our own."

"Do you mean to say the Salarian Union has been continuing research into Artificial Intelligence, in contravention of Council law?" Sparatus asked.

"Excuse me? How dare you accuse us of that!" Valern retorted, in an obvious show of engineered outrage. "Don't put words in my mouth, Councilor, lest—"

"Gentlemen, please," Tevos said with a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "Let us not get distracted from the matter on hand. It is clear that events on hand demand rapid, decisive action, and that this action must come from us. The potential outbreak of hostilities between a Turian fleet and an alien fleet of this size would bring chaos to the galaxy. Only the Council has authority to act on galaxy-wide matters."

"Then let's put some firm proposals on the table," Sparatus said. "This is a matter of Council prestige and resolve in the face of unknown factions. The Galaxy is no longer used to having major non-Council powers, but we must prepare for the eventuality that these humans decline membership. In that case, our actions here will either create a perception of strength, or one of weakness. We should let it be known that we will stand our ground, pending negotiations. We should not offer concessions before negotiations have even happened."

"I disagree," Valern said. "Even in the unlikely scenario you depict, no one will think the Council weak for simply doing the utmost to bring a species into the Galactic power structure peacefully. Does anyone think the Council weak for offering the Turians a premier role in exchange for aid against the Krogans? In the grand scheme of things, the position and maneuvering of one Turian fleet will matter very little."

Sparatus shook his head.

"As I said, the Council is no longer used to facing major non-Council powers. We should not feel so secure in our throne on the Citadel that we act as if the concerns of power do not matter to us. That invites being taken advantage of. We should not be blinded by lust for a few technological marvels."

"It is not just a matter of technology," said Tevos. "The Council has always survived by doing its utmost to bring in new species as Council-aligned, rather than permit the formation of alternative power blocs. This is as much a matter of power as anything could be. There were indeed those who thought the Council weak for offering the Turians power in exchange for war aid, but in the end it has made us all—Turians included—more powerful than we would have been otherwise. Major non-Council aligned factions would be a threat to all that we stand for. Consider, what if the Geth were to make contact with the humans, as machines to, potentially, fellow machines? It is unlikely, I agree, but more unlikely things have happened in the past."

Sparatus appeared visibly discomfited.

"That is an unpleasant scenario, I concede," he said. "It is still, however, unlikely."

"Not unlikely enough," Valern said.

He turned towards Tevos.

"I propose that we have had enough discussion. The Council should require the withdrawal of the Turian forces."

"Absolutely not," Sparatus said. "Not yet."

"The Council has always operated on unanimity," Tevos said, looking around. "One we clearly do not have yet. Allow me to propose a compromise: I propose we announce a cooling-off period, with the potential for withdrawal of forces as a gesture of good faith, pending negotiations. The public announcement of a willingness to withdraw should do much to soothe any potential insult, as well as wash our hands of responsibility for any conflict. However, we will not actually have to withdraw immediately."

Sparatus snorted.

"That sounds like something I'd expect the Asari Republics to come up with. Underhanded. But, given that there will be no immediate withdrawal, it would be acceptable to the Hierarchy."

"It is merely prevarication by another name," Valern said. "It is likely that this would be acceptable to the Union; certainly, when I ask, the Union will probably take so long to render a decision that the actual decision will be moot."

Valern sighed.

"Personally, it is acceptable, though I can only hope the humans see reason as we do," he continued. "Were the human fleet staffed by Krogans, the war would start the moment this decision were announced."

"Were the humans Krogan, the war would have already started," Tevos said dryly.

"So be it," Valern said. "Let our negotiators and agents do their work, and hope this announcement doesn't trigger war."

"So be it," the others agreed.

* * *

"A cooling-off period? What a joke."

Field Marshal Yuriy Mykhailo Wolanski, Chief of the General Staff, bounced a ball against the wall next to his desk, tossing it and catching it with the smooth, didactic rhythm that always helped him think. Outwardly, he seemed calm, but his ship, the HSS Sir Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of Wellington—known to friends as the "the Duke"—knew better. Inwardly, Yuriy was seething, just as the Duke was.

"I agree," the ship said, his archaic field marshal dress contrasting with the utilitarian ethos of Yuriy's cabin. "More than likely, a cover story to buy time while they gather more forces. I wouldn't expect any less from cowards who would attack a defenseless colony and delete a helpless AI."

The Duke remembered Abigail well, from his last tour of the system. He was a married man in an exclusive relationship, so it wasn't his place to make overtures, but if he could, he would have.

Abigail was alive again, of course, restored from one of her backups, but no one would ever know if it was really her, or if the real her was dead. Philosophical points aside, what had happened to her was the height of barbarity, exactly the kind of thing the Human military took oaths to eradicate from existence. Neither he nor most of the AIs of Earth were inclined to suffer the rapaciousness of hostile aliens.

"They are probably scared," Yuriy said. "A fleet like that can't stand up to us. Have you seen the combat projections? Extremely favorable."

"Assuming they don't have any technological surprises in store for us," the Duke said. "Beyond reasonable extrapolations of what they used on the surface, of course."

"Of course," Yuriy said, "but every military has its secret weapons, and they are nothing to fear as long as everyone has the right mindset. Back during the Unification Wars, the enemy had a new trick up their sleeve practically every day, but it wasn't enough to save them."

"Indeed," the ship said, clasping his hands behind his back. The aristocratic demeanor he affected prevented him from showing relief that Yuriy hadn't decided to launch into one of his extremely long war stories. They were pretty good stories—the first time.

"Why, then, are we still idling here?" Yuriy asked, directing the question at the silent third occupant of the room.

 _Governance: Military Affairs_ sighed. Sending Yuriy to the sector was necessary due to his Unification Wars reputation, because it showed the public how seriously Governance was taking the matter. It had in fact been lucky that Yuriy's fleet happened to be one of the designated response fleets to the sector. That being said, Yuriy was not known for his… diplomatic personality.

"Because as much as we would all like to go in, guns blazing, and take skulls for the skull throne, Governance must make a show of diplomacy," said _Military Affairs._

"Pah. Shows of force have always been more effective than diplomacy. When I was fighting in the Ukraine—"

"Yes, but the Russians at the time were clinically mad," said _Military Affairs_. He glanced at the Duke, he nodded slightly in thanks. "It is apparent to everyone that these aliens are at least reasonably sane."

Yuriy grunted.

"Furthermore, if possible, it would be profitable to force concessions out of the aliens," continued _Military Affairs_. "Taking what we want is possible, of course, but there are many advantages to lopsided trade agreements."

Yuriy grunted, this time in amusement.

"Heh. You are a clever AI."

"Governance does have its moments, yes," said _Military Affairs_ dryly. "Still, that is not to say we are not prepared for war. You are here for a reason, after all."

"Yes," said Yuriy. He caught the ball and squeezed, the squishy-elastic material bulging in his hand. It was a hand more suited to prying open tank hatches than throwing balls.

"Yes I am."

* * *

It was, by now, a tradition for the apprentices of the Mitakihara Four to hunt down Kyouko from a bar somewhere and drag her back out.

"So what's our cover story this time?" Sasha Costa asked, twirling a lock of red hair idly as she hopped along the rooftops of Saint Petersburg. Her ethnic background was very mixed, to the point where her last name was Portuguese, her skin color and bone structure were some variety of Asian, and her hair had somehow ended up very, very red. Sasha had contracted when she was nine, and had been picked up by Mami when she turned eighteen. She was now twenty-two.

"I don't have one," groused Itsuki Wakahisa, the latest in a long string of college-age apprentices that Kyouko kept cycling through. It was well known by now that getting an apprenticeship with Kyouko also meant dealing with all of Kyouko's eccentricities and her tendency to avoid paperwork at all costs. "This time Kyouko-sempai is just going to have to take it in the face."

Yu Ping sighed quietly from near the back of the group and shook her head. It was truly amazing how Kyouko could act as if she was no older than Yu Ping herself. Sasha and Itsuki both kept telling her that she was too serious, that she was still fourteen and should try to live a little.

Bah. Homura expected more out of her than that.

"I don't think we'll need a cover story," Yu Ping said. "We're just dragging her out right? No need to explain much."

"Hopefully," said Itsuki glumly. "Then again, you know how girls can be about Kyouko."

Yu Ping frowned as Itsuki and Sasha gave each other looks that seemed full of experience and meaning, as if Yu Ping hadn't been made to help them over a dozen times now and knew precisely what it was that Kyouko got up to.

"Look, let's just get this over with," said Yu Ping. "Look, there's the bar."

The small group landed in the alleyway behind the bar and detransformed.

"Aye, you're here for Kyouko-sama then?" asked an eight-year-old girl smoking a cigar, perched on a stack of fig crates next to the door that led into the kitchens. "She's over in the back."

"How many girls is she with?" Itsuki asked, bracing herself against the scandal. "It's not too many is it?"

"Nah, she's drinking alone," said the girl, shrugging. "Honestly, it's not the best time for it. We're pretty packed, and everyone's worried."

"Oh," said Itsuki. She seemed torn between being pleased and being even more worried. "Well then."

"Let's head inside," said Sasha with a small sigh.

Nobody looked up as the three girls filtered in, making their way across the back of the room towards a shock of bright red hair.

"Kyouko-senpai," Itsuki whispered. "What're you doing here? You're late."

"Eh, am I?" asked Kyouko. She paused to consult her chronometer. "Oh I see. I guess I am." She paused to take a swig of her beer. "Eh, sorry Itsuki-chan. I forgot."

"You always forget," Itsuki said, rolling her eyes.

"Not always," said Kyouko petulantly.

"Most of the time."

"Fine. Let me finish my beer."

"Senpai…"

Yu Ping's gaze drifted across the bar as Itsuki began her most likely futile attempts to move the stubborn Founder. For a bar of this size, placed in this general neighborhood, and especially at this time of day, the crowd was both unusually large and unusually somber. Small communal holos floated over the tables in the booths, and at the bar, wide-paneled screens that normally streamed the hockey games from across the Russo-Nordic Region silently played through the Governance-approved updates from Nazra Invictus.

Sasha clapped a sisterly hand on Yu Ping's shoulder, startling her out of her musing. "Come on, Yu Ping, let's get some drinks," Sasha drolled. Yu Ping raised a questioning eyebrow. "Itsuki's not having much luck getting Kyouko moving. Our great leader is being more…" Sasha paused, considering the appropriate adjective. "…stubborn than usual. We may as well dig in for the long haul."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Yu Ping asked skeptically, following Sasha to the bar despite her misgivings. "Won't getting drinks just encourage her?"

"Maybe," said Sasha, "but cranberry juice and coffee should be fine."

Yu Ping made a skeptical noise but held her questions in reserve. "If you're sure…"

"Sure I'm sure," said Sasha as they approached the bar. "Excuse me, bartender?"

"Ladies," said the bartender as they approached. "Name's Sadie, welcome to the Third Anchorage Bar, where we've all apparently gathered to raise a toast to alien invasion. Can I interest you in our end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it half-price cocktails?"

Sasha cocked an intrigued eyebrow. "Half-price cocktails huh. What sorts?"

"Oh all sorts," said Sadie with an expansive sweep of her arms. "Anything with whiskey or rum or gin or tequila or whatever else you can think of. Really, as long as I have it in stock you can have it."

Yu Ping's lips thinned as she watched Sasha consider the notion. "Sasha," Yu Ping said quietly. "We can't stay here."

Sasha sighed deeply. "You're probably right," she conceded. "Sorry Sadie. I'll have to take a cranberry juice. Yu Ping?"

"Coffee please."

"Righty-ho," said Sadie. "Juice and a coffee, coming right up."

"Eh, where you girls headed?" asked a patron, nomenclated as Fan Ling. "You got somewhere to be while the world's collapsing?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Sasha. She nodded at Kyouko. "We're supposed to pick up the redhead."

"Kyouko-sama huh," said Fan Ling. "What're you guys, Soul Guard?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Another patron, nomenclated as Sarai, nodded at Yu Ping. "She's awfully young for Soul Guard."

"In training," said Sasha smoothly. "Sort of a job-shadow like thing."

"That's a thing is it?" asked Sarai. She turned to Yu Ping. "How long've you been in training, kid?"

"Er, just under a year," said Yu Ping.

"Just under a year huh. You'd think you'd be ready…"

"Cranberry juice and a coffee," said Sadie, pushing the drinks across the bar to Sasha and Yu Ping. "Your accounts've been charged, already."

"Thanks."

"Now what's this about y'all being Soul Guard?"

"Only in a manner of speaking," said Sasha.

"Which just means you're higher up the food chain than most," said Sadie dryly. She leaned up against the bar and sipped at a glass of water. "Anything from up top that they're not telling us?"

"Ah, sorry, that's all classified."

The group that had been listening in all groaned. Sasha smiled apologetically. "Rules are rules, after all, but honestly, it's not that exciting. We've been escorting VIPs to meetings all day."

"Sounds like a shit job," said Fan Ling. She turned to Yu Ping and took a drink of beer. "You sure you want to go down this route kid? There's plenty of opportunities with Shizuki Corp available."

Yu Ping sniffed. "I'm sure."

"Hey, Sasha, Yu Ping, what're you doing?" Itsuki asked over private telepathy. "Come and help me drag Kyouko's ass out the door."

Yu Ping blinked and looked over. Itsuki was shooting them a disgruntled glare while Kyouko flopped across the floor, drinking her beer one handed while Itsuki hauled the other arm over her shoulder.

Sasha sighed and shook her head.

"And now, ladies, if you'll excuse us, we must see to our illustrious founder."

* * *

The Primarchs of the Turian Hierarchy were the most powerful and most respected members of their race, having ascended the ranks of citizenship to the highest level via distinguished and dedicated service. They were answerable only to the other Primarchs, and for good reason—each had a long track record of good judgment and excellent performance, helping to distinguish the Hierarchy from the haphazard governance of the other races.

Which is why it was so vexing to Primarch Fedorian that they had to assemble in emergency council to discuss this situation, and the accounting they would make of themselves, in front of the Turian people and the species of the galaxy.

The downside of having a tradition of fulfilling high standards was what happened when you failed. You got no credit for lifetime achievement.

Fedorian peered over the circular meeting table at the other Primarchs, most of whom were represented in hologram rather than in person. Attendance was full and conversation murmured in the background—the Primarchs were taking advantage of a rare opportunity to commune. Fedorian was only waiting for the right moment to begin.

Finally, he pressed his palms into the table, standing with slow dignity, careful to conceal the creak in his joints that came with his age.

The table instantly silenced—Turians didn't need any reminding to follow proper protocol.

"Primarchs, I hardly to need to explain the purpose of this hasty assembly," he said, setting the floor for the meeting. "The ongoing situation on this alien planet has become an escalating crisis, one that threatens to damage the prestige of our Empire, if it does not escalate into all-out war. All of our wars have been justified, all of our battles fought for worthy causes. To be seen fighting a war over a painful misunderstanding could do incalculable damage to our credibility, and yet, so too would be being seen fleeing too precipitously from the prospect of that war. It is indeed a conundrum, though the Council may yet hand us a way out with their offer of a cooling off period. To resolve this situation, this emergency session of the Council of Primarchs is hereby convened."

He paused, gauging the reactions of those in the council. Nothing he had said was new or radical, but the way he had couched his phrasing was important in setting the tone of the meeting. He had effectively ruled out the two most extreme positions, deliberately starting a shooting war or withdrawing immediately. To advocate otherwise would be to be seen disagreeing with the head primarch—not forbidden, but not commonly done.

"In order to obtain as accurate as possible an understanding of the decisions and events that led to the current situation, I will open the discussion to Primarch Luso Alelius, head of the Peacekeeping Fleet whose forces were involved in the initial confrontation with these humans. Afterward, we will hear from Legate Septimus, the commander on scene who is currently in negotiations with the aliens. Primarch Alelius?"

Alelius stood up as Fedorian sat down, taking a moment himself to look around the table. Some of the looks directed back at him were less than friendly—this debacle was the kind of thing that got primarchs demoted, and everyone knew it. Much rested on just what kind of accounting of his actions he could give.

"Fellow Primarchs," Alelius began, stretching out an arm grandiosely. "I know I speak to an audience of my peers, worthy of judging my actions, and I know there is much to judge."

Fedorian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As unbecoming as it might be, kissing up to the council, was, sadly, usually successful.

"The events of the past week have shone a poor light on the workings of my Peacekeeping Fleet, and while I concede that it is clear change is necessary—this demonstration of our failures shows we are improperly organized, _ipso facto_ —I will endeavor to convince you that it could not have easily been foreseen. I will also endeavor to keep my appeal short, as the purpose of the meeting is to address the future, not examine the past."

Alelius cast an eye at Fedorian while speaking the last sentence. He knew he was pushing it, campaigning so openly in a meeting which was ostensibly only about discussing the outcome of the crisis. Fedorian wished he could say that the council conducted only business, not politics, but that was an impossibility.

Alelius pushed a button on the table, and a hologram appeared floating above the surface.

"About two weeks ago, our robotic Sentinels monitoring the activity of the mass effect relays reported unusual activity near the Sigma-5 relay, resembling an attempt to activate it. As I need hardly explain, the Sigma-5 relay is unexplored, and opening the relay is thus strictly forbidden by Council decree. Indeed, it was for this exact purpose that the mass effect Sentinels were created."

Alelius looked around the table, finding mostly very bored faces. These were well-known facts at this point.

He pushed the button on the table again, and the hologram changed.

"Following the reorganization of 1900, approved by this very council in light of our slow response to the Geth conflict on Rannoch, Peacekeeping Fleet policy has mandated a rapid and unflinching response to any and all large-scale violations of council policy. As such, the Fleet's code of action in response to any attempt to open a mass relay was updated to require an immediate and militaristic intervention, and an intervention force has been kept on hand at all times for just this eventuality."

"Does the Peacekeeping Fleet Code of Action contain _any_ stipulation for unforeseen exigencies?" Primarch Aurelian Victus, head of the Military Fleet, interjected. "My reading of your code indicates that there is none, which is a shocking oversight that should have been caught in your internal audits. I need not tell this council that war is almost nothing _but_ unplanned exigencies, and to not have any plan for it is… questionable."

Fedorian, and the rest of the council, could hear Victus pausing before the last word, deliberately making a show of changing his mind about what to say. They all knew that Victus and Alelius greatly disliked each other, and that Victus was implying another word that he was not quite saying.

 _Incompetent_. It was a primarch's career death knell to be deemed _incompetent_ , and Victus could not use that word directly without precipitating an immediate leadership crisis on the council, one that could not be afforded at this moment. But nothing stopped Victus from merely… implying it.

"Primarch Victus misunderstands," Alelius said, with an obviously false smile. "There is plenty of exigency consideration in the code of action, but they do not allow for the possibility of a change in the _initial_ action. Long experience has shown that when it comes to galactic peacekeeping, law and consistency are the required order, and every offense must be responded to in exact measure to the severity of the offense, regardless of circumstance. To do otherwise would be unwise, and it is our policy to act according to the openly published code. I would submit that the experience of _war_ is inapplicable in times of _peace_."

"Then let us address the Krogan in the room, Primarch Alelius," Victus said, leaning forward and placing his palms on the table. "How is it that your fleet failed to take into consideration the possibility that these aliens were simply unaware of the council? That is an elementary consideration, and yet your fleet did not appear to even consider the possibility."

Alelius's smile turned brittle.

"According to our Sentinels, the aliens were nearly on the verge of opening the mass relay," he said. "After the experience with the Rachni, such a situation is considered an emergency, one to be dealt with using absolutely maximal speed. Contacting the aliens _a priori_ was considered, but would have been inimical to military surprise. The mistake we made was thinking that conquering this small colony would be a _fait accompli_."

"And now we have the peacekeeper telling us he made decisions based on _military_ considerations," Victus said, spreading his arms broadly—and sarcastically. " _And_ he's telling us there was a decision being made. I thought everything was done strictly following the code."

"Victus," Fedorian warned quietly, but sharply.

"I apologize," Victus said instantly, clearly insincerely. "I let myself get carried away."

Fedorian turned towards Alelius. Now that he had rebuked Victus, he needed to make clear that he wasn't actively supported Alelius.

"So how exactly is it that conquering this _small_ colony became such a travesty?" Fedorian asked. "Our negotiating position would be much better if you had been able to effect a bloodless entry, or even a slightly bloody one, rather than what happened here. I imagine the idea was to force them into a quick surrender."

"Indeed, Primarch, that was the goal," Alelius said. "In these kinds of situations, it is well understood that economy of force is no economy at all, so the entire Fourth Fleet was assigned to the task, under Legate Septimus. We expected it to be enough—certainly, it would have been enough for any equivalent colony world of the Council races, even of the Krogan."

"So why wasn't it?"

Alelius ducked his head politely.

"I think this is where I let Legate Septimus speak for the conduct of the Fourth Fleet."

He sat down, and a moment later a hologram of a standing Septimus appeared on the conference table, transmitted all the way from, apparently, the surface of the alien colony world. He had apparently allowed himself to be kept there as a gesture of Turian good faith—a rare piece of forward thinking and self-sacrifice, in Fedorian's opinion, though he knew some of the more warlike members of the council disagreed.

No one, however, could question that Septimus had shown valor in combat, given the manner in which he received his… very visible jaw injury. That he had even been in danger in his command post, however, was a source of concern.

"It is an honor to address the Council of Primarchs," Septimus said, ducking his head slightly in reverence.

"It is an honor to receive you," Fedorian responded, completing the traditional exchange of greeting.

"I will not waste your time," Septimus continued immediately. "I will immediately begin my account of Fourth Fleet's operation."

He waved his hand, calling up another hologram of the Fourth Fleet's operations from that day.

"We entered the system via the mass relay in standard fashion. Due to the more circuitous route, we were slightly behind schedule, but anticipated an acceleration of the timetable due to minimal orbital forces. Marines were dispatched to immediately seize the alien facilities and ships in the vicinity. As expected, resistance was light and easily overcome, with no casualties on either side. Multiple unmanned platforms engaged the fleet causing mild damage, but nothing truly significant was encountered at this time. I immediately began broadcasting a message explaining our actions to the alien planet and prepared for continued operations as per the operational code."

He paused and looked around the table to glean their reactions. Primarch Alelius nodded approvingly. Victus looked unimpressed. Everyone else seemed slightly bored.

"So far, so good, but a disturbing event occurred at the time that, in retrospect, augured poorly for the upcoming operation," continued Septimus. "The first was that our marines found what appeared to be a functional Artificial Intelligence on board one of the alien facilities. Following Council regulation, but _without_ consulting me, they terminated it. I cannot blame them, but it is a result I much regret, as I am informed that this action greatly antagonized the natives of the planet, helping to inspire their later resistance. I would have advised them to power it off, but hold it for later processing."

"It appears that we, and the Council, may have to revise our policies regarding AIs," Primarch Flavius, of the Home Fleet, said. "Those policies were put into place based on certain assumptions about the essential nature of AIs, assumptions which no longer seem to hold true."

"Based on the word of these aliens," a primarch down the table was quick to point out. "Aliens which according to autopsies might well be AIs themselves. I would not trust them so quickly."

"That is a topic for later discussion," Fedorian interrupted. "Let us hear the story first. Legate?"

"Regardless of the nature of these 'humans'," Septimus continued, "it is clear terminating the AI was a serious transgression in their eyes. That cannot be denied, and it may have played a role in the way the aliens chose to ignore our demands for surrender, even in the face of our fleet."

"As of course did the fact that they _didn't know who the Council was_ ," Victus interjected. "Were a Turian colony to be approached by a similar unidentified alien fleet and conduct themselves the same way, we would applaud them for their heroic defense. Indeed, were they being approached by a Krogan or Batarian fleet instead, their actions would have been undoubtedly the right ones."

Septimus looked momentarily uncomfortable.

"I was not briefed on the possibility that that was the case," he said. "We acted on the assumption that they understood Council law and simply chose to resist us. After all, even the non-Council races are aware of and respect Council policy regarding opening unexplored mass relays."

" _That_ is a failure of bureaucracy," Victus said, raising a finger to accentuate his point.

"Perhaps," Septimus conceded, like any true Turian unwilling to comment negatively on his superiors, at least openly. "Regardless, we behaved far differently from any Krogan fleet facing resistance, even as we took casualties during our initial landings. I daresay a Krogan fleet would have switched to orbital bombardment, but we are not the Krogan, and military victory was not the ultimate goal."

"Indeed," Alelius agreed.

"Tell me, Legate," Fedorian said. "What were your thoughts when the aliens opened a surprise attack on the fleet in orbit?"

"Dismay and surprise of course, Primarch," Septimus said. "We did not expect orbital space on such a small colony world to be militarized, and certainly not in the unusual manner you have no doubt read about. We took surprising, though low, casualties, partly just from the novelty alone. It is clear that their aptitude for robotics and automation far exceeds our own, and our systems were never designed to handle swarms of such small attackers."

"A response to a lack of mass effect technology, perhaps," Victus commented. "I would like to note for the record that the Military Fleet has already begun reassessing its combat protocols in light of this new dimension in the threat picture."

"As has the Peacekeeping Fleet," Alelius added.

"Despite the casualties, I endeavored to keep my calm," Septimus continued, keeping the discussion on track. "It is inevitable that some peacekeeping missions involve casualties, but the proper punishment is only for the Council to decide. It is only our job to maintain the peace."

"An admirable sentiment," Fedorian said, tapping his claws on his armrest. "As it turns out, however, we are hardly in a position to administer any 'punishment', not without the exertion of war."

"Indeed," Septimus agreed.

He paused for a rhetorical moment, bowing his thought in feigned thought.

"If I may Primarchs," he said, "I would like to summarize the remainder of the operation before I go into the details."

"You may," Fedorian agreed. "Of course, we have already acquainted ourselves with the details—we wish only to hear your perspective on the matter. It may be that details are even unnecessary."

"The Primarch is wise," Septimus said.

He looked back over the council table.

"The truth is, we were caught flat-footed by a race that defied our expectations. We had procedures and combat manuals, but none of them applied well to these humans. You have no doubt read the reports of their heavy combat suits, extensive drone swarms, and juveniles wielding impossible technologies. Though they look no more exotic than the Asari, in combat it was almost as if we were facing the Rachni for the first time. Resistance was far fiercer than we anticipated even possible, and our initial attempts at deployment were stymied by wholly unexpected alien tactics. I do not believe anything could have prepared us for what we faced."

" _That_ I agree with," Victus said. "I have considerable sympathy for Fourth Fleet, being asked to face a situation like this. I doubt my own fleet would have faired any better without the option of orbital bombardment. It is just a shame that Fourth Fleet was placed in such a situation when it was wholly unnecessary."

"Indeed," Septimus agreed, "though it may be that the entire situation was so novel that even the non-military aspects were caught justifiably unawares."

On "Indeed", Fedorian had started, surprised that Septimus was willing to agree to an attack on his superior. The rest of the statement, however, dispelled that notion.

Victus just smiled slightly, his thoughts visible on his face:

" _Septimus, you are such a model officer. How you ended up working for Alelius I will never know."_

"Nonetheless, despite the difficulties, you were in the end about to overrun the alien position?" Victus said.

"Possibly," Septimus demurred. "However, the aliens were somehow able to identify our primary command post and logistics concentrations, disrupting them significantly with their special operations teams. I myself barely escaped being captured or killed. This understandably delayed our attack, just long enough for their fleet to arrive."

"Ah yes, their fleet," Victus said, letting out what sounded like a sigh. "It is clear we will have to invest significantly in new, upgraded dreadnoughts. Perhaps even ask the Council to increase our allotted fleet size."

"I still hope it does not come to that," Fedorian said. The Military Fleet was always asking for more budget than they really needed—but in this case, he wasn't sure he could deny them all they asked for.

He looked around the table.

"I absolve Legate Septimus of the need to discuss any further details and open the table for discussion," he said. "It is not yet time for us to discuss the details of alien technology or capability, it is only time for us to discuss our immediate actions. Septimus, you may stay—I daresay the Council could use your input."

"It is an honor," Septimus said, bowing his head.

"For the time being let us table discussion of the clearly necessary reforms to the Peacekeeping Fleet," Fedorian said, gesturing broadly with his right hand. "Let us first discuss instead the immediate actions of the Hierarchy. We may return to the question of reform later."

The agenda for the meeting had been issued beforehand, so strictly speaking he had no need to explain what was happening. However, his speech and gestures here gave him the ability to influence the discussion, and here he was coming down firmly on the side of "reforming" the Peacekeeping Fleet, whatever that turned out to mean. In truth, after this debacle, he was not sure he wanted to keep Primarch Alelius in his position—he would see what the other primarchs thought. Some would call it being political, but others would say he was simply acting as the head primarch should, accepting the counsel of others.

"It is clear we cannot withdraw without significant loss of face," Primarch Victus said, "but it is also clear that to continue to hold our fleet where we are might be considered an unimaginable provocation."

"If I may speak frankly, the Council's proposal is intriguing," Septimus said. "A cooling-off period with the 'potential' for full withdrawal might be just the right way to signal a desire for peace without backing down too far."

"We cannot be seen acquiescing quite so simply to the Council," a primarch farther down the table said. "Even with the input of our Councillor, to be seen withdrawing on the decree of a Council diplomat would hint at weakness in the Hierarchy. Perhaps not so much for the other races, but there are those who see the Council as an Asari instrument to control us."

"They may think so if they wish, but I'm not sure we should allow radicals to affect our decision-making," Victus said.

"It is a very reasonable, and a very smart proposal," Fedorian said. "I only wish the Council had waited and allowed us to propose it first. Then it would seem like our idea rather than theirs."

Privately he doubted the assembled primarchs would have been quite so clever—the Asari were good at coming up with these ideas, after all, though apparently not good enough to have foreseen certain intricacies in Council politics.

"If only there were some aspect—some dimension of the issue that we could make our own," Alelius said. "Something we could say was our own idea."

The table was silent for a long moment, the primarchs glancing at each other or still in contemplation. It was difficult to think of anything.

"Perhaps before we negotiate, we could demand that humans publicly promise not to open any more mass effect relays," Septimus said, clasping his hands. "After all, that is supposedly why we were here in the first place. It would be a bit of an artificial concession—I know for a fact the humans didn't even know what it _was_ —so I doubt they'd be unwilling. But the rest of the galaxy might think it a meaningful concession."

A low murmur spread around the discussion table.

"An interesting proposal," Victus said. "It puts us in the position of seeming to demand something, without actually demanding anything. A bit of a wink-wink proposition. Something to make it seem like we're not just falling in line with the Council."

"I agree," Alelius said. "Though the major risk is that humans will not find it reasonable for us to make demands at all. We risk an affront."

Septimus made a pained expression.

"I could, perhaps, explain the situation to them backchannel," he said. "If they are made to understand that it is purely a symbolic gesture, then I think they will be accommodating."

"I would say do that," Fedorian said. "And see how they take it before we issue a demand."

"That sounds wise," Septimus said.

Fedorian looked around the table. The primarchs seemed vaguely positive on the idea—at the very least no one was speaking against it.

"We are agreed then," he said. "Let us take that course of action. Septimus, you are dismissed. Report back as soon as you can."

"I understand," Septimus said, tilting his head slightly in respect before vanishing.

Fedorian let out what he hoped was an inaudible sigh.

"Now onto the topic of the Peacekeeping Fleet…"

* * *

Kyouko hated meetings.

She especially hated meetings where she wasn't allowed to drink. In fairness, it wasn't as if she actually drank during most meetings. She had snacks to eat instead, and despite her reputation for insouciance she did actually care a whit about the MSY and the girls it tried to protect. Her drinking was restricted more to those meetings she'd been in while masquerading as the CEO of D&E. It was really a sanity-saving measure, incredibly important for keeping the wheels of business greased and the whole system moving.

That wasn't apparently allowed in meetings with Governance. Or more precisely, Mami wouldn't allow it for meetings with Governance. What Governance's actual opinion was, she did not know. She suspected, however, that the hive of machines and bureaucrats she had once helped build knew little of the value of alcohol.

"The trouble is, from a strategic perspective, it leaves us in an unenviable situation," said Military Affairs, steepling his fingers. "We have an enemy fleet that we don't have a clear understanding of. The capabilities of these vessels are easily speculated on, of course, but there is no way for us to make any claims about them specifically. There are a few possibilities, of course, now that we are aware of magical girls and their capabilities, but…"

"As we've said, the MSY is willing to provide more personnel, but only on the basis that we are allowed to withdraw the girls already in the area," Mami said. "We have more qualified personnel for this than a scattering of colonists and scientists."

Military Affairs, who never failed to remind Kyouko of a space marine from the video games so beloved by some of her recent… acquaintances, frowned into his armored hands.

"It is not merely a matter of qualified combat personnel," he said. "It's about familiarity with your opponent, both in a military and diplomatic sense. We may not like it, but the women on the ground are the most well-acquainted with the tactics and habits of the enemy, and already have a relationship with the troops on the ground. They have already had some successes questioning Turian prisoners. By withdrawing them, we may throw these gains away."

Kyouko could only shake her head at the situation. After centuries of peace, they had finally started to believe it would be possible to have that peace forever, for Mami to retire to the kind of quiet home they all knew she wanted, for Kyouko herself to withdraw into the kind of messy hedonism she considered the fruits of a lifetime of hard work. For better or worse, the rest of the MSY had followed them in that opinion, settling into a long and pleasant quiet prosperity.

One that was now threatened by a headache no one had asked for. If there was one thing she had learned from Homura over the years—poor, damaged Homura, who still refused to divulge what it was that had changed her so long ago—it was that the world was crazy, and always trying to get crazier, and only by the application of great effort could one push it the other way.

"Listen to yourself," she snapped back at the Governance Representative, partly in real anger, partly faked for the sake of the good cop, bad cop routine she and Mami so often adopted. "You want to keep a bunch of _teenagers_ —don't call them women—on the ground for military advantage. Isn't there an entire fleet in orbit? What are _they_ there for?"

Military Affairs took the tirade with what seemed to Kyouko like an impressive equanimity, managing to look like he was listening without looking angry. Of course, with these slippery AIs it was often possible that his expression had nothing to do with how he felt.

"You misunderstand," he insisted, once it was clear that Kyouko was done. "The military advantage is just a small part of it. We consider the chances of renewed conflict low, and while I think we all agree it would nice to have some specialists on site, I'd like to again emphasize the value of keeping the locals in place. Not only does it retain people who are already building relationships on the ground, it avoids making it look like we're girding up for renewed war. Both sides have agreed to a cooling-off period, but that, I think, requires us to actually _cool off_."

"Tell us more about your reasoning behind this cooling-off period," Mami said smoothly, "as well as what you envision these girls staying behind to do. I'd also like to remind you that if there _is_ renewed conflict, and any of them die, it would look terrible for us politically. I can't promise the leadership won't elect to blame the government for what happens."

Military Affairs retained his even expression.

"It is in the general interest of Governance and Humanity in general to foster positive relationships," he said. "While it is, of course, true that we run certain risks with this line of action, it is our belief that the Council is not interested in a protracted conflict."

"What makes you so sure?"

"The lack of orbital bombardment is certainly indicative," said Military Affairs. "As is the preemptive withdrawal of their fleet. Certainly, there are a variety of gambits they could be employing, but these become highly risky for _them_. Given what we know—"

"Which isn't much," snarked Kyouko.

"—it's very likely that their government prefers peace to conflict," said Military Affairs, giving Kyouko an unimpressed stare. "Our interrogations of the Turian prisoners strongly indicate that this is a legitimate peacekeeping exercise—"

Military Affairs paused again as Kyouko snorted. Mami patted Kyouko on the hand before gesturing at Military Affairs. "Please, continue."

"…a legitimate peacekeeping exercise for violation of their rules regarding Mass Relays, with little indication of true warmongering. If this is the case, then it is likely the correct conciliatory gestures will help prevent further conflict with this Council of theirs."

"Even presuming that you are correct," said Mami, "this is hardly comforting. In the worst case, the Council may be simply delaying for time, and their ground troops simply do not need to know the full details. In addition, the fact that the Turians were able to act on their own indicates that each species has a certain degree of autonomy. How can we ensure that the Turians do not act on their own again, out of misplaced fear?"

"We cannot," said Military Affairs bluntly. "This is why we have multiple battlecruisers in system, and the Fifth Fleet is within five minutes of Nazra Invictus. If war continues despite our best efforts, then we intend to win. But the possibility is remote, even then. With the Turian fleet positioned as it currently is, reinitiating the attack would lead to the annihilation of their ground forces. Whatever their motivations, the Turian military does not throw away its soldiers, that much is clear."

Mami leaned back in her chair and stared Military Affairs down. She raised a virtual tea cup and took a sip.

"I propose that the MSY specialists move into the system but not land," said Mami. "We can disguise it as nothing more than shifting civilian specialists around for the medevaced wounded."

"I… was not aware that your forces were this flexible," said Military Affairs carefully.

"Well, they are not," said Mami with a small laugh, "but even a minor amount of magical healing is sufficient to imitate medical specialists, yes? Sufficient for a small masquerade, such as it is."

"I suppose."

"Then we are agreed?"

"It is acceptable," said Military Affairs.

"Then the MSY will endorse the cooling off period," said Mami. She set her tea down with a quiet clink. "Things are moving very quickly."

"That's one way to put it," huffed Kyouko. "Just a few days ago the most important question in my life was what my weekend plans were."

"I'm sure," said Military Affairs dryly. "Is there anything else that you wish to discuss, then?"

"That should be all," said Mami.

Military Affairs nodded. "Very good. Then let's get started."


	5. Reverberations

Public Opinion was holding a press conference.

"Good afternoon," he began. "Thank you for coming in person to St. Petersburg. Before starting, I would like to apologize for the cramped quarters. As you are no doubt aware, this room is rarely used. We are at a point in our society where the physical spaces which we occupy are typically not so important. But, in certain rare cases, it does become true that a fully material press conference is preferable to a virtual one. Today is just such a case, and we shall endeavor to make things worth the while of those who were able to be present.

"Additionally, due to the remarkable nature of this press conference, I would like to lay a few ground rules. First, those who would like to speak must place a request through the network. We cannot feasibly conduct this conference through shouted questions. Second, all questions will be directed to myself, whereupon I will transfer the question to the appropriate body for answering. I will have final say on whether a question is deemed appropriate for this context, and reserve the right to veto any I deem inappropriate. A more fully contextualized set of these ground rules have been transmitted to you electronically.

"A few opening remarks are necessary to begin this press conference. First, let us be reminded that governments for most of human history have traditionally crushed the will of the people beneath the will of the ruling classes. This Governance was founded two hundred years ago in opposition to such ruling classes, and it was done so with the understanding that the existence of a human body and the presence of a traditionally human mind are not the only metrics by which we measure the worth of a sentient being. The union of Human and AI into a governing body has brought humanity to where it stands today, and none can deny that the cooperation and collaboration between organic and artificial intelligences for the betterment of all humanity has been fruitful. None can deny that the trust between humans and AIs must be willingly extended to others in order for the progress of humanity to continue.

"Such trust would seem beyond the reach of many. This Governance has never attempted to fabricate a false truth by which it may take and consolidate power. It is well known that in the pursuit of unity, this Governance has not tolerated the existence of other entities within its sphere of influence. Yet it is inevitable that, one day, an exception should arise, and it would seem that this day is the day where such an exception should occur. That it coincides with the outbreak of hostilities with the first alien race ever encountered by this Governance speaks to the need, in coming days, for a return to the foundational principles upon which we stand.

"It is with these principles in mind that we announce a new partnership between this Governance and a group of individuals who call themselves the Mahou Shoujo Youkai. Their leadership is here today, and there will be time to ask them questions afterward.

"Those among us who have knowledge of ancient languages will recognize this name as being written in archaic Japanese. It states, very simply, that the organization is a union for magical girls, created by magical girls for the interests of magical girls, in order to form a more perfect and united magical girl community. Such an organization is unique to the knowledge of this Governance, something which is in and of itself remarkable. It is clear, therefore, that there exists a series of exceptional circumstances within which this Governance must consider its attitude and stance towards the Mahou Shoujo Youkai.

"Such circumstances are numerous and difficult to enumerate in the time available in this press conference. The full list is displayed in the usual places. For now, it is sufficient to discuss two main points.

"The first and most notable of these is _magic_ , seen now for the first time in use to assist our soldiers in their defense of Nazra Invictus. It is a notion that stands to revolutionize our understanding of the universe. As a society, we stand upon the shoulders of science to inform us of the secrets of the natural world. With our laws and theorems, we seek to understand and bring order to a universe which seems full of chaos. Knowing, as we do now, that there are things which do not follow these laws, we are obliged to question the assumptions by which we approach the nature of existence. Alone, we cannot hope to understand these new mysteries, but together, with the Mahou Shoujo Youkai, it becomes possible to peer into the shadows which the light of science has cast, and in so doing illuminate yet deeper questions and allow us all to grow.

"Of secondary interest is the breadth and depth by which the Mahou Shoujo Youkai has penetrated our society. We say that it is secondary not to diminish its importance, but rather because such penetration is benign at worst, and actively beneficial at best. In the most cold-blooded sense, such a potential advantage, particularly in light of recent encounters upon the colony of Nazra Invictus, cannot be discarded on the mere whim of paranoia. Again, the precise nature of this penetration is difficult to elaborate upon within the confines of this press conference. The Mahou Shoujo Youkai has asked this Governance to allow its members to reveal themselves in the coming weeks, and it is the intent of this Governance to grant this request.

"This is not to say that the Mahou Shoujo Youkai are a group isolated and apart. Granting such a request is only natural, as it is not in the policy of this Governance to treat individuals as if they must be controlled and directed. So too is this the policy of the Mahou Shoujo Youkai, and it is in this fundamental principle that this Governance has found the starting point for compromise. As must be expected, there are many differences that must be resolved, if indeed such differences need truly exist. To treat each other as potential enemies is to fundamentally undermine the possibility for such resolution, a notion that is abhorrent to both this Governance and the Mahou Shoujo Youkai. It is only by moving forward into the unknown together that a future, to the benefit and strength of all, may be forged.

"But such things are to come. In the coming weeks, look for further announcements by this Governance as the situation develops. For the present time, other priorities stand before us. First and foremost is the need for calm. Do not be afraid, for the members of the Mahou Shoujo Youkai are not your enemies. They are your neighbors and your friends, people who you ought to know and to trust. They are people, just as human as yourself or as an AI, and ought to be treated as such. Second is to look to the conflict at and around Nazra Invictus. It is our aim to forge peace and prosperity with these new beings, and this Governance has accepted an offer of a ceasefire from their government. Despite this, it is not wise to be complacent, and we must always be prepared for the possibility of wider conflict. Be prepared to respond as is necessary to affirm the principles which we hold dearest to our hearts.

"And now to conclude. There are many questions to ask, and no doubt they will all be voiced at some point as this speech ends. Yet there is only one, truly, to answer. We, as a species, have created great peace and prosperity across many years. In these times of great change, will we act to destroy that which we have created? Or will we stand firm in the face of a chaotic universe and work together to grow and to learn, not only as individuals, but as a unified species that has earned its right to be?

"And now, I will be taking questions."

* * *

Emma fidgeted as the platoon she was sitting with glanced at her, then back to the holoscreen of the press conference, then back to her, and repeated the cycle. The latest ceasefire —or "cooling off period" or window of opportunity or whatever you wanted to call it— had resulted in yet another reshuffling of units. According to the higher ups, this was intended to be a longer-term ceasefire, and that the political situation warranted some relaxation of their military stance.

Well, "relaxation". Emma and the rest of the magical girls were still very much part of the frontline reserves. Soldiers still stood on standby, and their weapons and vehicles were still ready to go at the next alarm klaxon. The only "relaxation" that had really occurred was that a larger amount of reserves were encamped out of the range of enemy artillery, trusting in early warning platforms to keep them safe from air or orbital attack. The magical girls had been spread out, just in case, in order to keep them from being taken out by one lucky shot. Emma had immediately been "called" by Second Platoon.

She wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Well that's a fucking trip, that is," said one of the soldiers. "Do ye really believe what they say about permeating all of society?"

"I mean, you remember our supply officer, Genevieve, right? And how she kept randomly disappearing off for 'family business'?"

"What? No man, Genevieve was straight, man, she was straight! No way she was secretly one-a-dem sparklies."

"Hey I'm just saying man, it's kinda suspicious."

"What was her last name?" asked Emma.

"Sullivan," supplied a soldier. "Sergeant Genevieve Sullivan."

Emma looked up the name on the MSY database.

"Too many hits," said Emma, shrugging. "I could look harder, but I think that'd be prying too much."

"Yeah, I agree," said Annalise, crossing her arms as she watched the conference. "We can send her a letter later if you guys really want, but let's try not to be dicks about the situation."

"Aye, Sarge," chorused the platoon.

The group fell into silence briefly while the talking on screen continued. Emma fidgeted some more, rubbing her regrown arm as she watched. It was kind of surreal, hearing all these things out in public like this.

"What do you think?"

Emma looked at Annalise and raised a questioning eyebrow. "I mean, I knew a lot of this already."

"Sure, but knowing and thinking are different things," said Annalise. She gestured vaguely. "So, what do you think?"

"I mean, I grew up with this, you know?" said Emma with a shrug. "I became a magical girl about the same age as Ryouko, so I've spent a long time living life with this knowledge."

Annalise watched the holoscreen for a moment, quiet.

"It seems like it'd be a big change, for someone that young," said Annalise. "Having large amounts of your world upended like that."

"We try to keep it slow," said Emma. "The younger girls don't need to know everything, and it's overwhelming enough to have magic suddenly. Hell, to be honest, I don't even know the implications of all of this, I just know that it exists."

"Mmm. Youth."

"I guess," said Emma, shrugging again. She looked down at the ground. "Honestly, it's amazing how young I am, you know? Things happen, and you realize how much you don't know. How much you—"

"—didn't know you didn't know, right?" said Annalise with a sympathetic smile. "Yeah."

"Did you feel like this, when you joined the military?" Emma asked, turning to look at Annalise.

"Yes and no," said Annalise. She sighed. "I guess, no, because training was all about breaking you down and building you back up, but it was a sideways change. Yes, because I keep finding new things every time I deploy."

"Like what?"

"Like you guys," said Annalise. She gave Emma a small smile. "Magic's real, and that's a cool thing to learn."

"Psh, sure," laughed Emma. "We are pretty cool, aren't we?"

The two laughed quietly, the press conference rolling on in the background.

"Aren't you weirded out by this?" Emma asked, nodding at the holoscreen. "It's pretty big news."

"Well, you know, it's a thing," said Annalise, shrugging. "The Military is going to be more paranoid, of course, so we'll have to see on that front."

"Do you think they'll kick any magical girls out of the Military?"

"Could be," said Annalise. "It makes sense, at least temporarily."

Emma frowned and sighed. "I thought you might say that. Security risk, right?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Hahh, it's going to be a clusterfuck," sighed Emma. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "All the companies HSIS works with are going to freak out."

Annalise gave a wry chuckle and patted Emma on the shoulder. "Good luck on that front, Bluebird."

"Thanks," said Emma wryly. "How crazy is it that I'm thinking about switching jobs just to avoid the clusterfuck?"

"Eh, I can understand that actually," said Annalise. "I'd stick it out a little more if I were you. If nothing else, bailing on the situation is a dick move."

Emma frowned. "That's true. Still, now that things have happened, I wonder if I couldn't get a job in the Colonial Police. I've never actually liked working in finance that much."

"Worth thinking about," said Annalise, nodding.

They paused briefly.

"Well anyway," said Emma, "have you heard any news about the fleets?"

"Not really," said Annalise. She frowned pensively. "If you look at the timelapses of the fleet positions, it seems like the Turians are cycling out their fleet for other, similarly sized vessels. I haven't heard anything about what that might mean."

"They could just be reinforcing and resupplying, right?" asked Emma. "They can't do a fleet buildup without being a threat."

"Well, they also use that 'mass relay' to jump in and out," said Annalise. "So for all we know, they have a bunch of battlecruisers sitting just on the other side. We just don't know."

"Well, then, what do we do?"

Annalise frowned and shrugged.

"We wait."

* * *

Eunoe grasped the crystal drinking glass in her claws, looking down into the clear liquid within. For an alien alcoholic beverage, this "vodka" was refreshingly straightforward. It got the job done, no fuss, no muss. More importantly, she had been assured that there were only trace amino acids in the liquid, if at all, which meant she could drink it. That was not true for most of the other drinks available at this bar, which the humans understandably manufactured to be compatible with their base physiology.

There were a few other drinks the bartender claimed she could drink. Manufactured on alien worlds, he had claimed, where the plant life matched Turian physiology. Eunoe didn't feel at ease drinking it, though—she still couldn't quite bring herself to believe the humans' claims about their implants and the processing of dextro amino acids.

Adrea, on the other hand, was happily sipping away on one of the bartender's recommendations. In retrospect, the signs that Adrea was the much older one had always been there, but Eunoe had simply never noticed them, because they simply didn't make sense.

"So what did you want to talk about?" Eunoe said, after taking a deep swig of her alcohol. "Not that I don't appreciate you taking on this little supervised excursion, but you did imply there was a special reason for this."

She looked at the two guards standing awkwardly at the doorway of the bar. She couldn't imagine what kind of strings Adrea had pulled for them to let her take Eunoe to a bar, of all places, even if it was human-run.

Adrea closed her eyes for a moment, before setting her drink down and looking at Eunoe out of the corner of her eye.

"It's about Junoa."

Eunoe immediately tensed up at the mention of her former platoon-mate.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

Adrea cradled her drink in both hands.

"You're still pretty traumatized by what happened to her, aren't you?"

Eunoe immediately started to see it again: the alien holding Junoa up by the neck, her neck snapping—

She shook her head, a bit too violently. Not right now.

"I am not," she said.

"Yes you are," Adrea retorted immediately. "And don't ask me how I know that either."

Eunoe drummed her claws on the counter. She still didn't know how to feel about the fact that her friend had been reading her thoughts all these years.

"What about it, then?" she said, finally. "I still have nightmares about it, but I'll get over it. What else can I do?"

Adrea leaned over towards Eunoe, as if preparing to dispense a confidential secret.

"A counselor on the human side has gotten in touch with my organization," she said. "The alien who killed Junoa has been suffering nightmares, and has been having flashbacks back to what she did, and the counselor wanted to have her talk to someone from Junoa's platoon, to try and help her come to terms. I know a good candidate."

Eunoe couldn't conceal the horror in her expression, nor could she stop the sudden flashes of the alien's face in her mind, smiling a soul-searing grin as she snapped Junoa's neck.

"You see?" Adrea said. "That's not how it really was and you know it. If you just meet the girl, you'll see that she's just a child, and not the monster you fear."

Eunoe shook her head, speechless. Even if that was true, how was it supposed to help?

"I thought you had to be in that ridiculous costume to read my mind," Eunoe said, avoiding the topic.

"I don't," Adrea said. "I trained myself not to need it. Anyway, if you don't think it will help you, do it for her instead. We Turians came here and turned her into a killer. That's how she sees it. If nothing else, we have to atone for that. What kind of soldier would you be to keep running from that?"

Eunoe sucked in an angry breath, then picked up her glass and tossed the rest of the drink down the back of her throat.

"Fine," she said, managing to avoid coughing. "But you owe me."

"Sure I do."

* * *

Indeed, she was only a child.

That much was immediately obvious, despite the gap in species and culture. Everything about the girl's demeanor across the meeting table made it obvious, from the way she avoided Eunoe's gaze to the way she sat, just a little fidgety.

The silence stretched onward.

"I'm sorry for ki-killing your friend," the child said, unprompted, just as Eunoe had started trying gathering herself to say something.

Eunoe tried to imagine the garish grin of her nightmares on the child's face, and couldn't do it.

 _What would Althaea want?_ she thought.

"It wasn't your fault," Eunoe said. "It was ours. We should never have been there to start with."

That wasn't strictly the truth, of course. They were infantry of the Peacekeeping Fleet, at the whim of the Turian Hierarchy's High Command. They had signed up to conduct disaster relief, hunt pirates, and, yes, keep the peace. In this case they had done quite arguably the opposite, but no one could honestly say it was Eunoe's fault, even if she had been at the tip of the spear.

Just as no one could say Junoa's death was the fault of the child across from her.

The truth was obvious. The apparition of her nightmares wasn't a real person at all. It was only a ghoul, born out of her sorrow for Althaea and Junoa, out of the senselessness of this conflict, out of her own soul. It wasn't terribly different from being scared of monsters in the dark as a child, except that this darkness was infinitely blacker, formed by the void that lingered forever at the edge of life, the one that never stopped asking:

 _What is the purpose of any of this?_

 _What is the purpose of_ you _?_

"It's not your fault," the child across from her said. "You're just saying."

"Whose fault is it, then?" the other alien, "Clarisse", asked.

"It's no one's fault," Eunoe said, with a conviction she hadn't felt in a long time. "Just like death, and evil, and suffering. But just because it's no one's fault doesn't mean we can't fight it."

Adrea smiled.

"I heard a story from a Krogan once, long ago," she said. "She told me the story of a great warrior who slew their evil god. And when he was done, the others asked him why he didn't sheath his weapon. He said that the evil god was only the easiest challenge, and that as Krogan they could never stop fighting. And that is why the Krogan fight."

Clarisse nodded.

"We have similar stories."

"You humans have conquered death, have you not?" Eunoe said, looking at the child. "The most ancient of enemies, and you defeated him."

"I wouldn't say we've quite defeated death," Clarisse said.

"It's no one's fault," Eunoe repeated, "but we should still fight it. In Junoa's memory, if we must."

"Who's Junoa?" Ryouko asked. "Was she… your friend?"

"My dead friend," Eunoe said, stretching out a hand. "But I'll forgive you, if you'll forgive me, and together we can fight the real enemy."

Ryouko looked at Eunoe's clawed hand with confusion and wonder, before taking it a moment later.

Eunoe pulled the alien up to stand with her.

"Let's take a walk," she said. "You can tell me about who you've lost, and I'll tell you about Junoa and Althaea."

* * *

Septimus sighed as he sat back in his seat, running a talon over the top of his desk. He had been worried, for a while, that he wouldn't be able to make it back here. But, fortunately, the situation had been contained. He had been allowed to return to his ship nearly a week ago, after the initial "cooling off period" had been brokered. Technically speaking, conflict could reignite at any time, but Septimus did not intend for this to happen.

His first step had been to draw down his lines, pulling most of his troops back to the reserves. The Human commander had mirrored Septimus's action, and while both of them were too experienced to really let their troops stand down, it was an important symbolic gesture. The appropriate logistical considerations followed, as a matter of course, and had taken a bit of negotiating in order to sort out. In the end, though, things had proceeded smoothly.

The next step had been prisoner exchange.

Septimus sighed again and rubbed his jaw. Medigel was a wonderful thing, but his plating still wasn't healed. He'd carry the scar for the rest of his life, unless human medical technology became available to Council species. Spirits knew it was apparently capable of amazing things, and had even been able to provide some assistance to Septimus's troops. Even so, he wasn't sure he wanted to remove the scar. It would serve to remind him of what had happened here.

Prisoner exchange was ongoing, and was being a colossal chore. The injured were, of course, immediately transferred over. Septimus had neither the facilities nor the resources to treat them appropriately, and it was frankly a Spirit-sent miracle that none of them had died. Human medical technology even allowed their fatally injured to be brought back to life later, something that nobody had thought possible.

Apparently, the record for longest time left on the battlefield was held by one Corporal Eleanora, having lost both legs during the initial Turian assault and been left for dead during the after-battle sweeps. Fortunately, the Corporal had taken things in stride and was refraining from causing a political uproar.

The transfer of the rest of the prisoners was more difficult for reasons that were truly unfathomable to Septimus. The entire process was supposed to be a fleet affair, but it had somehow become a political pain in the fringe. Jaira T'ari, the council diplomat that had been sent to "oversee" the situation, kept making impositions on his command. These, of course, had to be balanced in order to keep the politicians happy, and put constant delays on the process of moving people back and forth across the line.

Septimus sighed again and picked up his stylus. Political maneuvers were such an unnecessary chore.

Another half hour was passed in silence, save for the unnecessarily cheerful beeps when Septimus' omnitool received yet another request for something inane. Septimus was seriously contemplating violating regulation and having a drink while working when he was saved by a knock at his door.

"Private Eunoe Aurelian is here to see you, sir," said Septimus's adjutant, poking his head in through the door.

"Excellent, send her in," said Septimus. He was still restricted to using his omnitool to transmit subvocalizations. "This damned paperwork is about to drown me."

"Very good sir."

Private Eunoe was, in Septimus's estimation, surprisingly well put together for someone who had been through what she had. Her armor had been repaired and cleaned, the nicks and burns from combat removed and replaced with shining regulation paint. Mourning patterns had been carefully added to Eunoe's upper arm plating. Small, vertical bars, one for each of the dead she was personally mourning, stood underneath the larger insignia for her unit as a whole.

Septimus was abruptly reminded of the bars painted on his own plating. Arturius had been an excellent officer, but also a friend. Septimus would miss him.

"Private Eunoe Aurelian reporting, Legate," said Eunoe, coming to attention and saluting.

"At ease, Private," said Septimus, rising and saluting back. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well sir, thank you," said Eunoe, relaxing her posture.

"You were captured early in the fighting, if I recall correctly?" Septimus asked, stepping around his desk and sitting on the corner.

"Yes sir," said Eunoe. "During the initial assault on the Human communications center."

"I see. I understand you lost a lot of friends in that attack. I'm sorry for putting you through that."

"Don't apologize sir. We all have our orders."

Septimus nodded and folded his arms. He gave Eunoe a considering look.

"Come, let's enjoy some of the privileges of rank," Septimus said, gesturing for Eunoe to follow him as he walked slowly to the end of his office. The wall shimmered and turned into a livefeed from the external cameras on one of the low-altitude troop support ships. "Tell me Private, what are your opinions of the Humans?"

Eunoe followed, somewhat confused. "My opinion, sir?"

"Yes," said Septimus. He folded his talons behind his back as he considered the planet slowly panning past, the colors of its surface and atmosphere reflecting off of the tiles in Septimus's office. The room's lights dimmed for effect.

"What do you mean, sir?" asked Eunoe, standing next to Septimus to watch the planetscape.

"I mean that you seem very… at peace, with the situation."

Eunoe was silent for a moment. The troop support ship's trajectory moved them towards a wide flatland on one of the planet's continents. Clouds formed a loose patchwork over it, potentially heralding rain.

"It's…" Eunoe began, before pausing. Septimus didn't say anything.

"It's difficult, for me, to blame them for their actions, sir," said Eunoe carefully. "I… feel that it would only be right, if the situation were reversed, for us to take similar steps."

Septimus nodded. "Very empathetic of you, Private."

"Is it, sir? I would have thought most of us would recognize that."

"You would be surprised, Private," said Septimus. He shrugged dispassionately. "As commanding officer, I was required to testify at the Council of Primarchs. The atmosphere was… interesting."

"Sir?"

"Let us simply say, for the moment, that Palaven is not wholly willing to accept the situation," said Septimus with a deep sigh. "Some still regard it as an unacceptable defeat."

Eunoe made a face of abject shock. "Do you mean that some of them want to prosecute an actual war?"

"I will make no further comment on the matter," said Septimus. "It is, of course, inappropriate to comment too much. Perhaps if they had seen more of the Humans, they would feel differently."

Septimus glanced at Eunoe, gauging her reaction. She seemed troubled, and angry.

"In any case," Septimus continued after a moment. "What are your impressions of Human culture? What sort of people are they?"

"It's difficult to say," said Eunoe. "There are a lot of differences, of course, but also a lot of similarities. Their military is structured similarly to ours, but I get the impression that they have more separation of work and leisure than we do."

"Nothing more specific?"

"Well, it's the little differences, sir," said Eunoe. "I can't list all of them, obviously. But their children are children. There's nothing too terribly alien about them, other than their physiology and their AIs."

"What do you think of their AIs?" asked Septimus. "Do you think they're a threat?"

Eunoe shrugged. "I couldn't say for sure, sir. I haven't met any."

"You don't have fears of them behaving like the Geth?"

Eunoe shrugged again uncertainly. "I don't think so? But I couldn't say for sure, sir."

"I see," said Septimus. He pondered the situation.

Privately, Septimus was sure that the Humans would have welcomed meeting other species with very little fuss. As it stood, that opportunity was probably lost. Politics would be complicated, and it was unlikely that there would ever be a lessening of the distrust that the Humans probably felt towards the Turians. There was little they could do about this, as soldiers.

"Well, thank you for your time, Private," said Septimus. "That was all I wanted to talk about. You're dismissed."

"If I may make a request, sir," said Eunoe. "The Human military is intending to hold a memorial soon. I would like to attend, sir."

Septimus nodded. "That seems reasonable to me, Private. Pass the request through the usual channels, of course, but I will make sure to approve on your behalf. Out of curiosity, when is the memorial being held?"

"Within a week of the formal cessation of hostilities," said Eunoe. "It will be military only. They intend to have another one for the families later."

"Hmm," mused Septimus. "I see. Thank you for the information, Private. Will that be all?"

"Yes sir. Thank you sir."

The two exchanged salutes again, and Eunoe left. Septimus remained at the viewscreen, thinking. Plans for the Turian memorial had been drafted already, and were sitting in Septimus's inbox for final approval. However…

"Begin note," Septimus said, his omnitool automatically starting its dictation software. "To the honorable Human commander…"

* * *

"This is absolutely unacceptable!"

It was the Turian Councillor, Sparatus, who had the first response to Jaira's news of the Human demand.

The Asari and Salarian Councillors, Tevos and Valern respectively, turned towards their colleague, mixed expressions on their faces. Jaira could read their thoughts easily from their expressions: if such a strong reaction was the official opinion of the Turian Hierarchy, then the situation could get very complicated.

A moment later, however, Sparatus ducked his head slightly, looking embarrassed. He took a moment to gather himself, then cleared his throat awkwardly.

"My apologies, Councillors," he said. "That outburst is reflective only of me, not of the Hierarchy."

"What _is_ the opinion of the Hierarchy on this matter?" Valern asked.

Sparatus's expression went through several contortions before he could master it again.

"I do not know," he said. "The situation is unexpected. We had not factored it into our planning. The Hierarchy was happy to enter into negotiations given the previously stated conditions, but this is clearly flaunting their disrespect in our faces."

"I would not necessarily view it that way," Valern said. "True, that is likely how many galactic observers would see the matter, but with a more nuanced understanding of their culture, the Salarian Union has come to see that your troops' ill-considered execution of one of their AIs is viewed as a war crime. This is, perhaps, meant as a statement on that matter."

"And where did the Union get this 'nuanced' understanding, then?" Tevos asked. "The STG?"

"I am not privileged to reveal that information," Valern responded levelly. "Nonetheless, the Humans have not hidden their opinions in this regard, as I am sure your own diplomats and agents have informed you."

His holographic gaze turned towards Jaira, who was, after all, most in the position to have done so. Jaira had stayed quiet, having learned from experience that it was usually better to just let the Council talk until they were ready to acknowledge you.

Case in point: Sparatus spoke before Jaira could.

"We are aware," Sparatus said. "We had not expected a move like this, but we… understand the reality on the ground. There is of course no way to engage in peaceful intercourse with this species without at least amending our decrees about AIs."

"It was a logical move, and not entirely unexpected," Tevos said. "We made a demand as a face-saving gesture, and they make one as a face-saving gesture in return. However robotic they may turn out to be, they do not appear to be immune to politics, which gives me hope at least that they are not like the Geth."

"With the evidence in hand, it is extraordinarily unlikely that they are like the Geth," Valern said. "We should think twice before antagonizing a militarily powerful race over old prejudices."

"We question in which direction _your_ prejudices lie, given that you speak as if using their rhetoric," Sparatus said pointedly. "Nonetheless, you cannot avoid acknowledging that allowing them to send an AI representative to a peace conference would be powerfully provocative."

"Or a symbol of reconciliation," Valern said. "It would be easy to turn the narrative that way, if we made a push for it."

"It would make the galaxy wonder how serious the Council is about its decrees if we abandoned them so readily," Sparatus commented.

"What is the Hierarchy's likely position, then?" Tevos asked. "Or do you wish to consult your government? There may be some time sensitivity to this matter."

Sparatus paused for a long moment, clearly turning the thought over in his head.

"My sense is that the Hierarchy would accept," he said "We have already made a number of concessions in the course of events so far, and in their view, we already abandoned a hard-line stance on the AI issue when we failed to press the offensive after learning about it."

"But your personal opinion is that you don't like it?" Tevos asked.

"Of course not," he said. "This is reckless and soft at the same time."

"Well, either way, it is settled then," Tevos said. "We are happy to make this accommodation in the interest of peace, which gives us unanimity. You may tell the humans that their offer is accepted, Jaira."

"Thank you," Jaira said, ducking her head in deference to the Council. Sometimes, her job was easy.

"Now tell us a bit more of your observations of these Humans," Tevos began.

* * *

"You know, I'm glad that it looks like we're going to have peace," Thaleon said, lying with both hands under his head on Jaira's—well, cleavage. It was the sort of provocative pose that suggested they might get right back to their previous work, once they both recharged a little.

"Really?" Jaira asked, her hand resting on Thaleon's chest. "I never thought you were the peace and prosperity kind of guy."

"Well, you know," Thaleon said. "If there were war, I'd probably have to deploy with the rest of the STG team, and though I relish a challenge, I can't honestly say the chances I'd have of surviving such a deployment would be more than fifty-fifty. Not with the crazy technology the Humans seem to have."

"Again, though, you don't really seem like the type to avoid that," Jaira said. "Weren't you the one who always talked about Salarians living short lives anyway? 'You Asari have a good reason to stay out of war,' you said, and I quote."

"Yeah, well, maybe it's the soft blue tits I'm lying on right now, or maybe it's the devilish Asari aura talking, but this particular Salarian is starting to think about his legacy."

"Legacy?" Jaira asked, taken aback.

"Yes," Thaleon said. "A Salarian male like me has almost no chance of having any children, because I'm just not politically important enough to be allowed to mate with any females. The only other route it'd be possible is, well, via an Asari."

Jaira felt her mouth dry out. This was the last conversation she was expecting to have.

"Now ordinarily," Thaleon said, "us Salarians couldn't give less of a hoot. But whatever witchcraft you Asari have that makes us interested in sex, also makes us interested in other things. And you know, right now, I can't help but remember that I just don't have that many years left in me."

"Oh goddess, Thaleon," Jaira said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I know you're still young," Thaleon said, "but we Salarians go through our lives a lot faster. The Thaleon who met your parents all those years ago was much younger. I wasn't ready then, but I'm ready now."

There was a long silence.

"I understand if you're not, though. As I said, you're still very young for an Asari."

"It's not that, Thaleon. It's just…"

She fell silent, wondering how she could possibly say what she felt. She feared taking the next step, because their daughter would be Asari, and in only a few short years Thaleon would be dead, and both of them would be alone. But how could she deny…

She raised her hands higher, placing them against the sides of Thaleon's head. Not once ever had she done this with him.

"Jaira, is this—?" Thaleon began.

She began the mind-meld.

* * *

Emma wasn't entirely sure if she was being a fifth wheel. She decided not to question anything about being asked to come with Tricia's family out to a sort of… food gathering expedition. Emma'd never heard of that sort of thing, but apparently Tricia's little brother, Alton, was an enthusiastic forager of the local plant life.

"Ferns, ferns, ferns," Alton mumbled to himself as he picked his way through the underbrush, eyes scanning the forest floor. "I need ferns for the pickles… where are the— oh mushrooms, those could be good…"

"Yes, he's always like this," Tricia sent to Emma over telepathy. "You have to watch out, because he hasn't figured out that trees exist."

"Is it dangerous at all?" Emma asked. Tricia's parents hadn't come with them, and were in a clearing preparing for whatever it was that Alton managed to find. "I'd have thought, with all the undocumented wildlife, that there's a risk of him getting hurt."

"No, the biology teams have decided that the valleys in general have low risk, and Alton says that he hasn't finished with the valleys yet," said Tricia. Emma looked over to see an affectionate smile across Tricia's face.

In the end, Tricia's mother and younger brother had been found in fugue. They had taken shelter in the basement of one of the science buildings, then had the building collapse on them during a Turian bombardment. Fortunately, the collapsing buildings had missed anything vital, and Medical had been able to restore them to full health. Alton seemed to have bounced back well from nearly dying, but Tricia's mother, Samantha, was having a tougher time of it. The family had decided to have a picnic to try and take their minds off of the whole business.

Emma, meanwhile, had once again found herself without much to do. The formal ceasefire had come through very recently, and the magical girls had all been pulled off the line almost immediately afterwards. The military was treating the situation with a fair amount of paranoia, as a matter of course, but it was starting look more and more like the Turians might be getting a permanent installation on Nazra Invictus. It felt like a concession, which it probably was, but Emma had decided not to think too much about it. It was a minor concession, in light of stopping the bloodshed.

"Hey, Emma," Alton called out, waving. "You've never been out here before right? Come take a look at this."

Alton was standing in a clearing of tall, blue things. After a moment, Emma's implants provided the name of the species.

"Blue, uh, Marlinfruits huh?" Emma said as she approached the clearing. The blue things were roughly two meters tall, narrow at their base where they emerged from rocky soil and swelling as they grew upwards as a single continuous stalk. The things were widest at about waist level and slightly ribbed, then continued to taper again and begin to curl into vaguely tentacle-like shapes. "Why are they called that?"

"Honestly, I have no idea," said Alton. "They're really tasty though. Blue Marlinfruits are a kind of succulent organism that's under the Earth-classification of 'plant-life', even though strictly speaking they're not plants. What we eat is this pod in the center—" Alton reached out and squeezed one of the pods "—which as you can see is kind of spongy. You're looking for ones that have a very bright blue color in the center and don't spring back when you give them a squeeze."

Emma nodded, looking around and testing a Blue Marlinfruit nearby. The pod indeed squished under her fingers, leaving behind the imprint of her hand. "Is this good?"

"Yeah, that's about right," said Alton. He moved over, producing a knife from a pocket very suddenly and scoring the stem of the plant just below the pod, then pulling sharply to the side. The stem fractured with a sharp crack, splitting away from the base with a splash of a fishy-smelling, deep red sap. In a single smooth motion, Alton slit open the pod and popped it open, revealing a pink core that dripped a vibrantly floral-smelling syrup.

"Here, have a taste of the syrup," said Alton, handing Emma the pod. "Tell me what you think."

Emma gave Tricia a vaguely alarmed look and lifted the pod up to her lips, tipping a little of the syrup into her mouth. The flavor was sharply acidic, but very sweet and intensely, almost unpleasantly, floral.

"That is, ngh, interesting," Emma said, handing the pod back to Alton. She licked her lips, grimacing at the sour aftertaste of the syrup. "I uh, am not sure I like it."

"Ah, yeah, the syrup can be an acquired taste," said Alton with an understanding smile. He swept his knife through the core to cut it into bite-sized chunks, then held out a piece for Emma to try. "You might like this better."

Cautiously, Emma placed the section in her mouth and was pleasantly surprised. The texture was smooth and creamy, like a custard, but with a deeply meaty flavor. The flavors of the syrup and the core mixed together as she chewed, ending up with something that was almost like a tangy piece of sushi.

"That's amazing!" Emma said, surprised.

"Isn't it?" Alton said with a broad grin. "Blue Marlinfruit is some of the best fruit we can get in the valleys around here. You can do a lot of things with it, and it keeps well if you keep it in its pod and give it enough time for the sap at the ends to dry. Can you guys help carry some of these back? I think we'll grill them with some of the ferns I've been looking for."

"Uh, sure, but we don't have knives," said Emma. "Do you want us to just carry stuff for you?"

"Can't you use your magical girl weapons?" asked Alton, tilting his head.

Emma blinked. "Er, well, mine doesn't quite work," she said a little awkwardly. "Polearms are a bit too large."

"You can use one of my knives," said Tricia, fiddling with her soul gem ring. "If, er, you're okay with this?"

"Are you okay with this?" Emma asked, giving Tricia a skeptical look.

"I'm fine," said Tricia. "Are you ready, Alton?"

"Sure."

Tricia took a deep breath, then transformed in a flash of blue light.

"Hmm," Alton said thoughtfully as he looked Tricia over. "You look lame, sis."

"Eh?"

"Yeah, the frills are super tacky," said Alton with a teasing grin. "You should consider— ack!"

"I _like_ my costume!" Tricia shouted as she pulled Alton into a noogie, grinding her knuckles into her younger brother's scalp.

"Agh, mercy! Mercy!" Alton cried, squirming in Tricia's grip. "I give!"

"Hmph, good," Tricia sniffed, turning Alton and his mussed hair loose. The boy giggled to himself as he left to begin cutting down stalks of alien fruit. "Little brothers. Jeez. Anyway, Emma, here's a knife."

Emma took the magically manifested weapon with a bemused look.

"It's good that he's taking it well," she said over telepathy.

"Yeah, it is," said Tricia, smiling a little more widely as she flicked her sword out. She squeezed a nearby pod, then swept her blade through the base of the plant. "I was a little worried."

"Ah. How uh, are your parents doing?"

Tricia swept her blade through another stalk with a sharp flick of her wrist. The red sap splashed across the ground. "They're fine."

Emma gave Tricia a skeptical look that the younger girl didn't notice.

"They'll probably get used to it soon," said Emma, turning to a pod and giving it an experimental squeeze. "My family's been sort of quietly freaking out too, though my girlfriend's helping smooth things over."

Tricia nodded. "That's good."

They worked quietly for a moment.

"When do classes start again?" asked Emma.

"Not for a while," said Tricia with a shrug. "There's supposed to be an announcement, but best guess is that it's probably not until after the near-term politics get figured out."

"Ah. Are you nervous?"

Tricia paused, then sliced through a Marlinfruit stalk. "Not really, no."

Emma nodded. "I'm thinking about joining the Soul Guard, maybe staying out here on Nazra Invictus."

"Really?" asked Tricia, surprised. "Weren't you some sort of banker before this?"

"Investment researcher," Emma corrected. "But yeah."

"That seems like a pretty big career change."

"A bit," said Emma. "But I never liked investments and stuff, and doing research is kind of like a mystery. I'd have to see what the Soul Guard needs these days."

"That could be cool, yeah," said Tricia. "Have you told your family yet?"

"I haven't, no," said Emma. She paused thoughtfully. "Still, I mean, all things considered, they may not care that much."

"Maybe."

"Anyway, we should hurry up," said Emma, looking down at the three stalks she'd cut in the time it took Alton to cut half a dozen.

Tricia laughed. "Probably. Hey, Alton! How many of these do we need?"

* * *

It seemed to Mami Tomoe that her life had taken a relatively unexpected turn.

One of Mami's bodyguards, Patricia, was frowning pensively at a holographic Go board. Across from her, Governance's latest Directorate AI seemed to be mulling over the problem with great intensity. Mami wasn't convinced. _Governance: Foreign Affairs,_ who had asked to be called Catherine when possible, was only a few days old, but was already exhibiting an alarming ability to mask what she was thinking behind an extremely convincing facade. All things considered, this was probably a good thing, but it made the AI very difficult to judge.

The small group that made up humanity's very first interspecies diplomatic delegation was sitting in the lounge of the _HSS Cote d'Azur,_ a VIP transport corvette that, despite being a military vessel, was sumptuously laid out with plush chamois seating and real, quarried marble tables. They would not be able to enjoy the luxury for very long, however, as the Cote d'Azur had no mass effect drive, and thus would be unable to transport the delegation to the Citadel. They were instead to transfer to an Asari vessel, departing from Nazra Invictus and flying back in a few weeks.

"Atari," Patricia said quietly, placing a white piece on the board with a subdued clack. The move put fourteen black pieces in danger of capture, only one life remaining on the formation.

Catherine furrowed her brow and pursed her lips. The AI mulled over the board, picking up a black Go piece and hesitating briefly before placing another piece down on a completely separate part of the board. The move made Patricia pause, frowning intensely, before clacking down a piece and capturing the fourteen black pieces.

"Atari," said Catherine, placing another piece. Seven pieces suddenly appeared to be under threat. Patricia hurried to defend them.

"Atari."

Patricia frowned, placing another piece.

"Atari," Catherine stated a final time.

Patricia stared at the board. Somehow she'd managed to end up with half her territory collapsing under Catherine's assault. It had taken three moves to destroy the entirety of Patricia's position.

"I give up," Patricia said, throwing her hands up in exasperation and leaning back in her chair. "This is pointless, I'm never going to win!"

"That one was better!" said Catherine with a charismatic smile. "It wasn't nearly as bad as the first game."

Patricia made a grunting noise.

"Seriously, you learn quickly," said Catherine sincerely. "You clearly have talent."

Patricia made another annoyed grunting noise, but smiled slightly. "Well, thanks, I suppose. Do you want to try, Mami-san?"

"I'll pass, thank you," said Mami, smiling demurely with a sip of her tea. "I am quite out of practice, and so don't think the game would be too interesting."

"I'm sure you could give me a run for my money," said Catherine, despite dismissing the Go board with a wave of her hand. "But I think the Asari are arriving in system, so there probably isn't time for a game."

Patricia and Mami turned to the wall of the _HSS Cote d'Azur_ as an announcement rippled across their implants: "All hands, foreign ship arriving in system."

The local mass relay was glowing. It was the typical sign that something was coming, and the brighter the glow, it seemed, the larger the Thing. A rhythmic pulsing began to ripple down the length of the mass relay before there was a flash and a burst of radiation and then, by Turian standards, a truly colossal ship.

" _HSS Cote d'Azur_ , this is the _Destiny Ascension_ ," hailed the ship's commanding officer. "On behalf of the Council and of the Asari Republics: Greetings. I am Matriarch Lidanya, captain of this ship and fleet commander of the Citadel Fleet. By the authority vested within me by Council Order number Seven Zero Two, I hereby extend diplomatic immunity to the human diplomatic delegation, as well as the welcome and the hospitality of the races of Council space."

" _Destiny Ascension,_ we hear your transmission and extend our thanks," said _Cote d'Azur_. "We would like to extend to you and your crew a token of our gratitude, and have prepared several Earth confections in bulk quantities for your crew to sample. In addition, we would like to invite your command staff to the _Cote d'Azur_ for refreshments after your journey."

There was a brief pause. "Our thanks, _Cote d'Azur_. We would gladly accept your offer, and are transmitting directions for delivery of your confections. What time would you wish to meet for refreshments?"

Mami tuned out of the feed and shook her head in amusement. It had been Catherine's idea to bring enough ice cream to feed ten thousand at least two servings each. It was a little bit insane, as plans went, and personally, Mami always felt that cake was the ideal diplomatic treat, but it would probably work.

Well, the good news was, these aliens seemed _very_ human. Implausibly so, relative to what the simulations had predicted. If that held up, it made her and Catherine's jobs a lot easier. Mami would have had no idea how to negotiate with squid aliens or something like that, but she could schmooze humanoid aliens with ice cream and cake like nobody else. It had, after all, been her specialty.

Her only regret was that she was going to have to put off the latest trip she'd been planning, to visit some old friends who had settled down in the colonies. Her counterparts in the old SMC really had a wonderful sense of style and class, and Mami had been looking forward to reconnecting. Maria really had the best baguettes…

Ah well. Hopefully there would be time, after all this, for at least a quick tour. It would be a bit different than she had hoped for, since there was a distinct risk that people would recognize her, but it would still be a nice chance to relax.

Mami relayed an order to the synthesizer, feeling the need for something hot to drink. She wondered if the aliens would like tea.

* * *

It turned out that the aliens, the "Asari", did like tea. It turned out that they had something similar back on their home planet, which of course had been brought to the rest of the galactic stage as the Asari had spread. It sounded like something that Mami would have to sample if she found the time on the Citadel. Though perhaps, if they were being treated as a diplomatic delegation, she'd be able to have some delivered to her room.

It had been a bit of an effort to get the Asari delegation to let down their guard. They had been understandably cautious of the ship at first, with Matriarch Lidanya putting on a particularly impressive show of confidence. It had taken Catherine doing a quick sensor sweep to realize that the Matriarch was displaying the same biological signs of worry that her subordinates were, if at such microscopic levels that even Mami had been fooled.

It was not the only time Catherine had proven her value. Mami may have been good at her job, but Catherine seemed almost capable of reading minds. It was like watching a master maitre d'hotel flit about their dining room, yet without the inevitable intrusiveness that came with having a person at your elbow. Somehow, everything always ended up being _just_ so for each of the Asari, distracting them handily from the fact that they were sitting inside an AI. Between herself and Mami, the Asari hadn't stood a chance.

For the moment, at least, Mami and Catherine had been simply playing host and the Asari their guests. It was hardly a challenging political situation, but even so, they had done well.

"Well, I think I'll call that a success," said Mami as she and her bodyguards followed Matriarch Lidanya and her command staff back to the shuttle. "You did well, Catherine."

"Thanks," said Catherine. The young AI hummed to herself as her avatar walked along, "I took a lot from the parts of your memory that were used for constructing me."

"Ah, I suppose that's to be expected," said Mami, a flicker of emotion perturbing her thoughts for a moment. She definitely hadn't expected to have a hand in making Catherine, and in the end Catherine didn't resemble her enough for Mami to feel any real familial connection, but it was still a bit strange. "Well in the future, if you have any questions, feel free to ask."

"I will," said Catherine as they reached the shuttle. The human delegation was ushered in swiftly and seated, the Asari having realized they were running slightly behind schedule. There was a bit of a delay as Catherine transferred over, but soon they were off and flying towards the _Destiny Ascension_. They sat in silence for a while, each alone with their thoughts, before Catherine spoke up over private voice with Mami.

"So, I've been reviewing your memory data, Mami," Catherine murmured to Mami. "I'd be surprised by it if I was any other AI, but somehow I'm not."

"I see," said Mami, unsure how to react.

"You, that is, the MSY, have done a remarkable job over the years," said Catherine, her mental presence hovering now in the back of Mami's mind, almost like a child leaning up against a parent. "It's amazing how you've stayed under the radar for so long."

"Well, it wasn't easy," said Mami. "The MSY had to build up to where it is now."

"Yes," said Catherine. She sighed, a buzz of static across Mami's consciousness that made her frown. It wasn't something that spoke of good things.

"It doesn't, no," Catherine said. "I'm worried. It's probably affecting my mood."

"Why are you worried?" asked Mami.

"I've only been powered on for a few days," said Catherine. "You have a lifetime of experience. I can't help but feel underqualified."

"Well that's very silly of you," said Mami. She wondered what the mental equivalent of patting an AI on the head was. "The whole point of an AI is supposed to be that you're the distillation of a lifetime of experience, isn't it?"

Catherine made a humming noise. "I guess."

"And besides, if we use your logic, in reality we're both out of our depth," Mami continued. "After all, just because the aliens seem vaguely human doesn't mean that they're _actually_ human. The only data I have is for humans, so I can't use the data directly. It's only really good for some educated guesses."

Catherine glanced over at the Asari command staff, who had largely fallen to quietly tapping away at their omnitools.

"We did do pretty well, today," she said, almost absently.

"Yes, you especially," said Mami. "So have a little more confidence in yourself, okay?"

Catherine mentally nodded. "Okay."

* * *

"And that was it?" Asami asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Ryouko said. "I'm not sure why, but it made me feel better."

The two of them sat, backs against the wall on the bed they now shared. During the ordeal they had undergone, everyone had been forced to share only a small amount of living space, and they had discarded any pretense. Now, with peace, the residential housing of the colony was once again available, or being rebuilt, but they felt no need to go back to those tumbled cubes yet. There was no hurry, and if they lost their flat more could always be deployed, with the Fleet in orbit.

Asami let her hair twist around her finger for a moment, wondering what was safe to say.

"It made you feel better that she told you about her friends that you had killed?" she asked, finally daring to voice the question. "I can't say that really makes sense to me."

Ryouko didn't answer for a while, staring thoughtfully into the middle distance.

"I'm sorry if that was a bad question to ask," Asami began.

"No," Ryouko interjected. "It's fine. It didn't really make sense to me either, but I've had time to think about it. Part of the problem was that I had feared they really _weren't_ people, you know? That I was tearing myself up over nothing, that I was being inadequate, that I was failing to do what was right. Now I at least have the satisfaction of knowing I was right to feel horrible about killing them, and right to question why we were fighting this war. The Turians can be talked to, and I think… that if Eunoe forgives me, then I can forgive myself."

"I see," Asami said, without trying too hard to parse the logic. If it made her girlfriend feel better, who was she to question it?

Asami looked down at her hands, and wondered why she hadn't been as traumatized as Ryouko was. Was it _just_ that she had only killed at long range, that she had never been forced to kill a Turian in close combat? That, she knew, was only a fluke of battle—Ryouko was even more of a ranged mage than she was, given that her primary weapon was an arbalest. How different would things have been, if she had seen what it was like to smash her singularity into a sentient being?

How shallow was she, if that was all it took to stay detached? Was she really detached, or just lying to herself?

"You don't have to feel bad about it," Ryouko said, reaching out to grab a tendril of Asami's hair with her own. "I know what you're thinking. There's no rule that says you have to feel bad, or not feel bad. In the end, you react the way you react, and you deal with it how you will. No one has the right to question that."

"That's a really bloodless way to think about it," Asami said, reaching outward with her own hair so that their faces grew closer. She felt some of Ryouko's hair stroke the nape of her neck, and she felt her breath catch for a moment.

"I know," Ryouko said, as Asami reached over to grab her hand softly. "Maybe someday I'll do better. For now, I think all I need is some time at peace, some time to do some science and feel like I'm doing good in the world, to make up for all that has happened, so I can feel less guilty about things that aren't my fault. There's a lot to do now, between the alien ruins and captured technology, to reverse-engineer what they have and make it our own. We know now how lucrative it can be, which means the money and competitors will start pouring in."

Ryouko's hand shifted slightly, to an angle that suggested that this was maybe more than just a reassuring cuddle, and Asami struggled to form a useful response.

"Huh," she said.

She could now feel Ryouko's breath on her neck, just from her breathing. She could feel the airflow travel through the strands of her hair and pass over her skin.

Their hair coiled tighter for a moment.

"So you're okay now then?" Asami asked, finally.

"Basically, I think," Ryouko said.

Asami gulped.

"Well," she said, smiling shyly, and grabbing the other girl's hand and tugging it, just a little. "If you want to do some good in this world, you can start by doing good with me."

Their eyes met for a moment.

"That was pretty bad," Ryouko said.

"Yes, I know," Asami said, giggling nervously. She had felt awkward saying it.

"But, well," Ryouko began, then paused. There was a moment of surreal clarity as Ryouko reviewed some past knowledge. "Well, all things considered, I'd be glad to."

Asami giggled again as Ryouko pushed her over.


	6. The Light of Tomorrow

Recovery efforts were underway, and had progressed enough now that even the most hawkish warrior couldn't pretend that the fighting would continue.

"Raagh!" grunted Field Marshal Wolanski. The old warhorse was apparently on the surface today, to work with his troops. A Governance photographer hovered unobtrusively in the background as Wolanski's vast arms lifted a supply crate up and over his shoulder. "Come, mysha, there is much work to do."

Ryouko blinked at him as she lifted her own crate. The Optimax 4x4 standard emergency response crate carried a good four hundred kilograms of equipment and supplies, wrapped in a one hundred kilogram hardened case that could fall from an altitude of five thousand meters in standard Earth gravity and largely survive. Five hundred kilograms was easy for a magical girl. For a human, even one with military implants…

"Hah, you are surprised, yes?" Wolanski grunted. He stepped forward and began walking towards the dropoff point. "In Ukraine, we had special implants for fighting Russian scum that we put to good use moving supplies."

"Didn't you have any drones?" Ryouko asked. The ones on the colony had been blown up, and the local manufacturing capacity wasn't quite up to the task of replacing every single thing overnight.

"Drones?" Wolanski laughed. "No, no, not when you are shelled day and night by heavy artillery. Drones are too slow, they are blown up by anti-air missiles. Instead we used high speed transports which dropped crates nearby. When the shelling quieted, we went and pulled them in by hand."

"Isn't— isn't that dangerous?"

"Much must be risked in war," said Wolanski. "It is what it is. Come, we have arrived."

With another grunt of exertion, Wolanski set his crate down on top of a pile that had formed next to the distribution center the military had set up. Ryouko walked over to set hers down as well, the metal clanging as she set it down on the edge. She made a small noise of exertion as she pushed it into its place on the top of the pile.

"Good, good, and now another," said Wolanski, stretching his back and making it pop. "It is good for the body to exert oneself, yes?"

Ryouko blinked at him. "Er, sure?"

"Field Marshal _sah_!"

A lieutenant came running up and snapped into a sharp salute. He was out of armor and dressed in standard navy work clothes. A sigil on the nomenclator identified him as a member of the local command staff.

"At ease Lieutenant," said Wolanski. "You have a message?"

"Sah, yes sah!" the lieutenant said. Ryouko checked the nomenclator to identify his accent. Apparently it was from some colony near Nova Terra. "Sah, we have a contingent o' Turians approaching the main fortifications! They are requesting permission to assist with the reconstruction effort, sah!"

The Field Marshal's brow tightened and his expression turned dark.

"Understood, Lieutenant," he said. "Hold them at the entrance. I will see to this personally."

"Sah, understood sah!"

"I am sorry, mysha, but I must go," Wolanski said, turning to pat Ryouko on the shoulder. "Carry some more crates, yes? It is good to help a little, if you can."

"Um, I can take you, actually," said Ryouko, fidgeting slightly. Hauling crates around was not her idea of a good time. "I can teleport us?"

Wolanski grunted. "Indeed. Then let us do so. Come mysha, let us go to the main entrance."

Ryouko nodded, transforming in a flash of green. An image appeared on her implants of the entryway to the fortifications that now surrounded the IIC node.

"Hold on," she said to the Field Marshal, extending a hand.

"I am ready," said Field Marshal Wolanski, having smoothed out his uniform and squared his expression. He took Ryouko by the hand.

"Teleport in three, two, one, mark."

They reappeared in a flash of green in front of the very surprised Turian infantry column. They were in two-by-two, standard marching order, though out of armor and wearing work clothes.

"Atten-SHUN!"

There was no need for translators. Everyone there recognized a ranking officer when they saw one.

"At ease," Field Marshal Wolanski rumbled into the air. The sound was like the slow cracking of a glacier as it ground its way down the mountainside. "Report."

"Sir!" barked the column's commander. "I am Captain Silvanus Dellius. As a gesture of good faith, Legate Septimus of the Fourth Fleet has given me and these volunteers leave to assist you in the reconstruction effort. If there is anything we can do to help, we are at your disposal, sir!"

Ryouko examined the column of soldiers. They fidgeted, uncomfortable out of their armor and under the gaze of the defense turrets mounted along the earthworks. Farther down, she could see Adrea and Eunoe, standing at parade rest, eyes focused ahead.

"Someone you know?" Wolanski said to her.

"What?" Ryouko asked, flinching slightly. "Er, I mean, yes, I recognize a few."

"Their names?"

"Uh, Adrea and E-Eunoe? Turians I met during a prisoner visit earlier."

"Captain!" the Field Marshal immediately barked. Captain Dellius snapped to attention. "It is brought to my attention that you have two soldiers named Adrea and Eunoe under your command. Is this correct?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Very good. You and your troops will assist the work crews in whatever way deemed necessary. Sergeant Andrews!"

"Sir!" one of the soldiers behind the earthworks shouted from within her armor.

"You will assist Captain Dellius in divvying out tasks to his command. Coordinate with Lieutenants Childers and Shang at grid reference 49-D. Is that understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"In light of the fact that Ryouko is familiar with two of your troops, they will be assigned to her to assist her in her own work," said Field Marshal Wolanski. "It will help, I think, with the unstated objectives, yes? Is this acceptable to you, Captain?"

"Yes sir!"

"Dismissed."

Field Marshal Yuriy Mykhailo Wolanski turned on his heel and marched back into the base, but not before taking a moment to clap a hand on Ryouko's shoulder. The crunch of his boots against the ground was quickly drowned out by the shuffling of feet as Sergeant Andrews began shouting out orders.

Ryouko looked around at the group of Turians, which still stood in an orderly grid even as groups broke off gradually for their new assignments. She had to admire in an odd way both the discipline of the alien soldiers—though they _had_ stopped standing at attention and started chatting with each other—and Sergeant Andrew's willingness to yell loud orders for what certainly felt like a full half hour. Like everyone else, she'd seen the old war movies with yelling sergeants and all that, but she was pretty sure that outside of boot camp all orders were implant-based and, well, the Turians didn't have those.

 _I'm surprised to see you're still around_ , she thought, deciding she might as well talk with Adrea while she was here. Eunoe was the one she really wanted to talk to but, well, that would have required her to actually walk over and break the formation. _Didn't the Phoenix Foundation go public? I'd have thought you'd be off doing something for them._

 _I'm still a soldier, so my duty is here,_ Adrea thought back, transmitting a shrug. _Being a magical girl doesn't change that._

 _Oh,_ said Ryouko. She paused, thinking that over. _That makes sense, I guess. What are you and Eunoe doing here?_

 _It was Eunoe's idea_ , Adrea replied. _Something about how, if we're going to talk about making the world a better place and bringing prosperity back and all of that, we should put action behind words. It was a bit garbled. Not sure why I let you young ones lead me around when you can't even speak coherently._

 _Young ones?_ Ryouko thought. _How old are you anyway?_

 _I'd rather not share. Anyway, it seems we've received our assignment. They want us to help clear the rubble from one of your settlements and look for survivors._

Ryouko had forgotten to pay attention, eyes focused on nothing in particular as they had chatted, and only noticed on Adrea's cue that the group of Turians around Adrea and Eunoe had broken off from the main group and were headed out.

She jumped off the stage with careless athleticism she was long past noticing, but which seemed to catch the Turians' eyes.

"I might as well go with you," she said, jogging up to the group of Turians. "I've got nothing better to do, anyway."

Since the end of active combat, the local magical girls had been released back into the civilian world. For some of them, that meant it was time to attend to their families or travel, but for most of them it was time of unease. They didn't want to just _leave_ , but it would be a while yet before the colony returned to normal and they could go back to what they were doing, if, indeed, normalcy was ever going to return.

Ryouko, for her part, had been putting off as best as she could her parents' insistence that she return home for at least a while. She didn't want to know what Asami's parents were saying to her, considering they hadn't even known about the magical girl thing.

"You think you can help?" one of the Turians asked, giving her a look that wasn't quite skepticism, but also wasn't quite confidence.

"You've seen them in combat, Valen," another Turian said. "She'll be fine."

"I personally have not seen them in combat, and it's not about that," the other Turian growled.

"She's seen more than you think," Eunoe said, looking around at the others. "Let's not turn down help when we have it."

With that comment, the group headed off, making their way towards where an officer was directing them. It was only when they cleared the area that they spotted the vehicles waiting to take them to their work. They were the typical human half-antigrav multipurpose long-bed trucks that were used to haul things and people around at a dependable, if somewhat sluggish, pace. In fairness, it wasn't that long of a drive to the emergency site, but Ryouko still couldn't help but sigh in anticipation of the tedium.

"You know, Ryouko," said Adrea, glancing over at her with a knowing expression, "why don't you just teleport some of us instead? It would be a lot faster."

The comment caused a stir in the Turians, even as Ryouko blinked at Adrea, then turned her head away bashfully.

"I guess so," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. In her mind, Ryouko protested that anyone buried in the rubble would have been there for days at this point, and, especially with fugue, it was doubtful that saving even half an hour would matter much.

But the Turians didn't know that, of course, and she knew that the real reason she was being reluctant was that she was embarrassed about showing off her powers to the Turians.

"Alright," she said, "but I wouldn't want to carry more than maybe six of you. I have limitations."

She nodded in the direction of the officer directing the operation, who was looking at them curiously. She sent him a message explaining the situation.

"I need all of us to be in physical contact," she said, grabbing onto Eunoe's upper arm. "Each of you grab hold of something."

Adrea immediately grabbed Eunoe's other arm, and a few other Turians, after some hesitation and looking around, grabbed various parts of Adrea and Eunoe, avoiding touching Ryouko.

Ryouko took a breath.

* * *

The Turians behaved with remarkable discipline, shrugging off the ordinarily disorienting first experience of a teleport to fan out across and around the rubble. A small flotilla of drones had preceded them, conducting some preliminary scans of the collapsed buildings for life signs and civilian transponders. A good number of them had already been found, reporting either individuals in relatively good condition, some who needed rescue as soon as possible, and a few who… would not need rescuing.

"The transponder system is not foolproof," Ryouko found herself announcing to the alien personnel, who were peering intently at displays emitted from their omnitools. "In situations like these they often malfunction due to damage, or are sealed in by too much metal to be noticed."

They had jury-rigged a communications connection between the Governance networks and Turian omnitools, but it still left a lot to be desired.

"Still, it's a start," someone commented. "It gives us something to focus on. It's a very efficient system for emergencies."

The tone of that comment was some combination of admiring and worried, unless Ryouko missed her guess. The Turians were still on some level rather bothered by the amount of integrated technology Humans had.

"This doesn't make any sense," Eunoe said, even as the others got to work stabilizing regions that were at risk of immediate collapse, or digging for the most superficial victims, following the estimates of structural risk provided by their omnitools. "There's no reason Turian artillery would devastate civilian buildings like this. This wasn't even an important combat zone."

"Mistakes happen," a male Turian commented gruffly. "We must atone."

Ryouko took a breath, allowing her implants to point her in the direction of a cavity in the ruins where a couple of civilian transponders had localized, one of a few where she might have enough space to teleport in.

She found herself nearly sideways among a group of three civilians, unconscious and lying on the floor in an energy-saving fugue state, visible only with a magical girl's natural night vision. Two men and a child—she was glad her experiences in combat had made her less squeamish about blood and injury, since it didn't take medical training for her to conclude that at least two limbs on the child were a loss. But still, they had gotten lucky—the air pocket Ryouko was crammed into had certainly prevented anything worse, and even given them a bit of oxygen to work with.

She ran a check on whether moving the civilians would collapse anything—both her intuition and a newly installed physics engine guessed no—before appearing back in her original location, eyes adapting instantly back to the bright light.

Looking down at the people on the ground, and the two adults who were already waking back up, she couldn't help but smile a little. They would be alright.

Then she got back to work.

* * *

"Something is definitely up with these readings," the male Turian working near Eunoe said.

"What do we do?" another worker asked.

Eunoe had been tuning out the chatter around her, focusing on moving rubble aside with the grim single-minded determination she felt was appropriate to the situation. She had always enjoyed combat, but after the experiences of the past week, this—this felt more real to her, more worthy of the Turian cause.

Something about the way the other Turians were speaking caused her to pause, however, and look up from the rubble, searching for the source.

She found the gruff Turian from earlier peering unhappily at the holographic display of his omnitool, another Turian standing behind him mirroring his expression. Whatever it was, it meant something was wrong.

"What's going on?" she asked, stepping gingerly over and around pieces of rubble.

"Do you see this?" the other Turian asked, showing her the display. "I brought an advanced scanner just in case—you never know what kind of surprises you might find in a situation like this—and there's way too much mass effect activity going on at the bottom of this cluster of buildings. The aliens aren't supposed to have mass effect technology, and this wasn't one of their labs, so—"

"It has to be a piece of Turian technology," the other Turian said, finishing the thought. "But what could anything possibly be doing buried deep in alien rubble?"

Eunoe looked between the other two Turians, realizing that neither of them were front-line soldiers—they clearly didn't have the build or demeanor, and they were failing to reach the obvious conclusion.

"It's a munition," Eunoe said, leaning over to peer at the other Turian's omnitool. "Left over from the bombardment, but very few of our bombs use eezo. It's too expen—"

She stopped mid-sentence, reaching forward to spin the 3D display frantically. Oh no.

"Too expensive?" the male Turian finished for her. "Well, if it's not very common, then—"

"It's a bunker-buster," Eunoe said, voice filling with dread. "Mass effect-powered, probably Type 86, if you look at these readings. Someone in Command really wanted something busted open. But apparently, it didn't fully detonate. Which is odd, since those bombs are designed to be robust…"

"And we missed," the male Turian said, sounding horrified despite his low voice. Definitely a scientist of some kind. "It _still_ took out all these buildings."

"Despite failing to fully detonate, yes," Eunoe finished, feeling a familiar sense of focus settle over her. "Not exactly the Turian Hierarchy's finest hour, but it's worse than that. The fact that so much eezo is still down there means it might still be live. It could go off any second. You can guess what that would do to us, and to the civilians."

"What do we do?" the male Turian asked. "We can't just leave, there's people down there!"

"Can you imagine what that would do to our reputation?" the other one asked.

"I hadn't even thought of that," the other said, wringing his hands. "Maybe we should just keep digging, and not mention we saw this. Maybe it's not live, and we can extract the civilians, then forget any of this ever happened."

Eunoe resisted the urge to slap the Turian. The reaction was panicked, and dumb. There were only two valid options: leave now, or send someone to look at the bomb.

Unfortunately, she knew someone with military training, whose parents were munitions researchers, and who had trained specifically on bomb disposal, a long time ago. That someone was named Eunoe Aurelian.

"That's a terrible idea," she said. "I have bomb training—" _some, and only if nobody asks too many questions_ "—so I can take a look, maybe even defuse it if necessary. I'm willing to take the risk. I just have to get down there."

"If you say so," one of the other Turians muttered, shifting uncomfortably. "Who knows, with a little luck, the humans will never have to know—"

She wasn't sure what specifically it was, but something about that line pissed her off.

"And how the hell am I supposed to get down there without their help, genius?" Eunoe hissed. The scientist flinched backwards. "I don't see any Turian magicians around here, do you? We have a human right there who can help, and I'm not going to hide something as dumb as this just so the Hierarchy can kiss its own ass."

With that, she turned towards a nearby blob of green, just barely stopping herself from storming away and making more of a scene. She had to keep calm and keep stable, if she did end up having to defuse a bomb. She was glad Adrea wasn't around to see her—she had been called off to a separate section of the ruins where more than mundane assistance had been required.

"Eunoe," Ryouko said, nodding at Eunoe from her perch atop a piece of rubble as the Turian walked up.

"Ryouko," said Eunoe. "We have a situation."

Ryouko raised an eyebrow. "What's up?"

"We uh, found a bomb," said Eunoe, shifting a little awkwardly. "A bunker buster, about, erm, I think it'd be about nine hundred kilograms, in your units. We're not sure what state it's in, but initial scans show that at the very least its warhead is still active."

Ryouko's other eyebrow had crept up as Eunoe was talking. She now looked extremely alarmed.

"I uh, I see. I think I'm supposed to kick this back up the command chain."

* * *

"Well, shit."

Major Ellis McDonald was one of the rare colonial boys in the Human military. Nobody was really sure exactly why everyone seemed to come from Earth, but whatever the cause it was inevitable that Ellis wasn't your typical soldier. More importantly, it gave him a unique perspective when it came to "standard operating procedure". While some treated it as if it was a book of rules, Ellis was of the opinion that SOP was really just a set of… guidelines. An outline of what ought to occur was not, strictly speaking, obligatory.

"So lemme make sure I got this straight," Ellis said, folding his arms. "Y'all got a bomb lying down there in the rubble, with no idea how bad it's damaged, and based on your current readings, its prolly going nowhere good. I got all that right?"

"Yes sir," said Eunoe, tapping briefly at her omnitool. "We really don't want to leave that thing down there for longer than absolutely necessary."

"Now," said Ellis, sliding his thumbs into the belt-loops of his uniform with a sigh. "When you say 'absolutely necessary', do you mean 'after we've gone through due process', or do you mean 'as soon as is physically possible'?"

"Er, well, aren't those the same thing?" asked Eunoe. "I mean, I'd gladly go and take a look myself, but don't you have to—"

"Private, you're about to learn a few things about the human military," said Ellis, slapping Eunoe on the shoulder. "You've just volunteered to go down there and give that bomb a look-see. Now, Miss Shizuki," he turned to Ryouko, who blinked up at him with wide eyes, "you're the mobile unit we got in the area. Under the articles of cooperation signed between Governance and the MSY, you got no obligation to put yourself in a position where 'significant risk of harm to your person' could occur. Any actions and decisions you make from this moment onwards are your own, and I have in no way coerced you into doing them. Is that all clear?"

Ryouko blinked. "Uh… yes sir?"

"Good. Now, Miss Eunoe: as I see it, the fastest and easiest way to deal with this here bomb y'all got is for you, Eunoe, to teleport down there with Miss Shizuki here, give it a scan, and defuse it if at all possible. D'you agree or disagree with my thought here?"

Eunoe nodded slowly. "Well sir, that's certainly true. There's a lot of risk, but I don't think that would go down if we delayed."

"If anything, it'd get worse the longer that bomb sits there, am I right?"

"Yes sir."

"Right then. Miss Shizuki?"

Ryouko nodded as well. "I can teleport her in."

"Good gal. In that case, Eunoe, what kinda support equipment y'all gonna need?"

* * *

The good news was, there was plenty of open space around the bomb, which was in a nice hollowed-out cavity inside the rubble that allowed Ryouko and Eunoe to teleport straight in without any preparatory work, though it was too cramped to allow for much of anyone else.

The bad news was _why_ there was an open cavity around the bomb, and what they found there.

"Hey, woah!" Eunoe said bracing herself against what felt like a sudden pull _backward_ , towards the edge of the rubble behind her. It was a pull familiar to her from anti-biotics training, where they had been forced to endure being thrown around a member of one of the cabals. And that one time she'd pissed off an Asari who thought she was getting too chummy with her lover…

Unlike Eunoe, Ryouko didn't even visibly flinch at the mass effect waves pulsing out of the bomb. Instead, she just stood there, tilting her head slightly to the side, as if listening for something.

"Is something the matter?" Eunoe asked.

"There's someone here," Ryouko said, sounding airy, as if distracted. "A child. She's in the rubble nearby. I'm talking with her."

"Spirits," Eunoe said, pushing aside for the moments her thoughts about the bomb, and about Ryouko. "Can we get her out?"

"She's in partial fugue," Ryouko said. "But she'll be fine. I… wouldn't want to move her yet. I wouldn't be able to reach her without also teleporting a large chunk of the wall. Which might collapse all of this around us onto the bomb."

She gestured at the rubble that surrounded them, unnecessarily.

"Is she panicking?" Euno asked, knowing that it was, perhaps, too emotional a question.

"We have implants to deal with that kind of thing, for the short run," Ryouko said. "The partial fugue means she's not even fully conscious. Think of it as a… low power mode, maybe?"

She'd forgotten that humans were like that. Freaky cyborgs? Magicians? On some level, it worried her. It didn't matter. Not right now. A girl needed help: that was all that mattered.

"We wouldn't happen to have something that would let us just teleport her out and leave the bomb to explode?" asked Eunoe, looking around skeptically. "Several, uh, hundred _thousand_ kilograms of rubble above us, for example?"

"We don't have that much rubble," said Ryouko. "And I think there's probably some people in the rubble."

The cold blue glow of the eezo warhead cast stark shadows across Ryouko's face, masking her expression, but Eunoe thought the girl sounded calm. Too calm, like she was trying to hide her real feelings. She knew what that sounded like, from her experiences in combat.

"Well, alright," Eunoe said, more to herself than to Ryouko. "Then I need to hurry up."

She pushed her way forward to the bomb, step by plodding step.

"Alright, let's see what we have here…" she said out loud, more to steady herself than anything else. The bomb itself was a scorched, blasted thing, with several large dents, two large rents in the casing, and a missing tailfin. Judging by the blast pattern, it looked like something explosive had tried to intercept it mid-flight. The shock of the detonation would have been responsible for the tailfin, most likely, but the impact with the buildings in the area would probably have done most of the rest. In fact, judging by the way the casing had been crushed in along one side, it had probably hit some kind of structural pillar.

Eunoe grimaced and raised her other arm, on which had placed the omnitool she had borrowed from the scientist. Its instrumentation was practically blaring at her, so she turned down the sensitivity. She didn't need to know that the bomb was right next to her, thank you very much. She needed some _other_ details.

"This thing is probably about to blow," she said, with little other preamble, allowing worry to show on her face as she raised her omnitool to show Ryouko. "The bomb is armed, but the firing circuit has failed to trigger."

Ryouko made a face. "That's… lucky, I guess?"

"I suppose, but the capacitor is still charged and I don't know how safe the relay actually is," said Eunoe as she turned back to the bomb. "And there's these weird pulses. If the firing circuit just weren't working, I'd expect the bomb to be silent entirely."

As if to accentuate her point, the bomb emitted a low rumble, sending out a pulse that caused Eunoe to stumble slightly. The side of the bomb seemed to crumple, just a little.

"Damn," Eunoe said to herself, continuing her analysis. "The most likely explanation for these pulses is that the damage to the bomb not only damaged the firing circuit, but also caused a short through something that's normally non-conductive but is now breaking down under the high voltage."

"And so the super-capacitor would discharge, slowly, triggering these pulses," Ryouko said, grasping the point almost immediately.

"Yes," Eunoe agreed, frowning down at her instruments.

"Couldn't we just wait for it to discharge fully?" Ryouko said. "Eventually it will just run out of energy."

Eunoe thought for a moment. That _was_ the tempting answer, but…

"The bomb is heavily damaged," she said. "We just saw it crumple under one of the pulses. If whatever is short-circuiting it were to be replaced by, say, metal…"

Ryouko closed her eyes.

"Then the bomb will detonate," she said.

"Yes," Eunoe said.

"Then what do we do?" Ryouko asked. "It could go off at any moment!"

"We have to move quickly, whatever it is we do," Eunoe said. "If we want to try to defuse it, then one way to do it would be to interrupt the circuit, without short-circuiting it ourselves. Or discharge the super-capacitor somewhere else, somehow."

Ryouko blew a breath out between her lips.

"Well, how do the circuits work? If it's just a circuit, I'd guess it has to be strong enough to survive an impact and long-term storage, but no one really cares if it can be used more than once. I'm not really sure that tells us anything, though."

"The internal layout is pretty modular, to improve maintenance," said Eunoe. "The firing mechanism is basically a great big brick of a circuit. A lot of it is made out of non-conductive polymer composites, which tend to shatter if overstressed. I'm amazed we're not more fucked, to be honest…"

"If it's modular, couldn't we just pull out the firing circuit?" asked Ryouko. "I mean, it's not the safest plan, but we don't _need_ anything else, right?"

Eunoe made a displeased expression. "We could, but it's buried pretty deep in there. I'd be worried about jostling it and causing it to fire."

"I _could_ potentially take part of the bomb and teleport it somewhere else," Ryouko said. "In terms of jostling, all I need is brief contact with my magical strings. Otherwise, it won't get a chance to do anything before I'm gone."

The bomb rattled again, pulsing out another wave of gravity that first pushed Eunoe backwards, then, just as she'd caught her balance, pulled her forward again, nearly sending her tumbling into the bomb.

"We'll have to do it in stages," said Eunoe. "Can you connect back to the surface? We'll want schematics, and my omnitool is blocked by the rubble."

Ryouko nodded, expression blanking briefly before she gestured with her head at Eunoe. The Turian's omnitool beeped a moment later, registering the receipt of a set of files.

"Alright, so," Eunoe said, pulling the schematics up and projecting them against the bomb. "Here's what the bomb's internals look like fully assembled with no damage."

"It looks like the collision with the building punched a hole through the penetrator," Ryouko muttered, pushing through the waves of gravity to stare intently at whatever her implants were projecting onto the remains of the bomb. "I can probably start by teleporting out some of the outer shell to expose the electronics. Then we can figure out what to do about the interior."

"I'll send you the details about what parts I think you can safely remove. Removing the shell might even relieve some pressure from these gravity waves. But we don't want any of the electronics to actually shift at all."

Ryouko nodded, then seemed to steady herself slightly as new details arrived. Eunoe still found it unnerving how humans could receive transmissions in their minds, but she was… getting used to it. She could definitely see how it might be convenient, or even life-saving, especially in combat.

Eunoe blinked, and Ryouko was gone, and the bomb looked smaller, with its guts in the open. She blinked again, and Ryouko was back. She had moved quickly, as they had planned.

"Keep an eye and make sure nothing falls on me or the bomb," Eunoe said, kneeling in front of the device. "The last thing we want is something falling on it in this exposed state."

Ryouko huffed a breath and glanced up at the "ceiling". There wasn't much she could realistically do.

The bomb's layout was, in some senses, straightforward. In other senses, it was a horror show. Fundamentally, all the bomb had to do was flip a switch after a certain amount of time had passed following impact. Its basic circuitry was nothing more than a controller board, a relay, and a power module. Dead simple.

Implementing all of this with the appropriate redundancies, safety mechanisms, access for maintenance and diagnostics, and then packing it all into as small an aerodynamic shell as could be managed was… not.

"Spirits help me," Eunoe muttered as she peered at the tangled mess of wires and cabling with a sudden new appreciation for religion. She'd always found prayers at the local shrine to be tedious, and now she regretted the time spent daydreaming instead of paying attention. A bit of a spiritual edge would have been nice about now.

With the panel open, Eunoe could detect a muffled buzzing from deep inside, buried behind a large ball of multicolored wire.

"Is everything alright?" Ryouko asked. "Anything I can help with?"

"Uhh… try teleporting out this bundle of wires," said Eunoe. "Don't, uh, teleport straight back. Give it like five seconds."

Ryouko blinked, taking in what Eunoe had said.

"Got it," she said, stepping up to the bomb. There was no need for further explanations.

A moment later she was gone, and Eunoe found herself holding her breath.

Eunoe jumped as a single pebble bounced off the tailfins.

"Well, that seems to have worked," she said to herself, before looking inside again. The controller board was now clearly visible, its various indicator lights flashing unhappily at her. Then again, she'd just ripped out all the sensor cables, judging from the labeling on the ports that had been sheared, so the blinking red lights were to be expected.

What was most important was that the buzzing was now very loud. The power circuit was hidden behind a panel for safety, and the wide gauge wires coming out of the panel seemed to be fine. So of course the buzzing was coming from behind the panel.

Ryouko reappeared a moment later.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're still here," she said, her hair twitching slightly. "What was that I just removed?"

"Apparently they were wires to the bomb's sensors," Eunoe shrugged. She tapped the panel with her talon. "Can you remove this for me? Probably don't need to teleport, but some magically-enhanced finger strength can probably get it open faster than trying to force the screws out."

Ryouko leaned over, peering at it for a moment. She looked skeptical for a moment, then reached forward, hand almost touching the panel.

A moment later, with a slight creaking noise, the panel popped off. As far as Eunoe could tell, she never actually touched it.

"Telekinesis," Ryouko said, shrugging vaguely. "It's a really convenient thing to learn, so everyone can do at least a little. Not sure I want to rely on my magically enhanced nails here."

"Didn't know magical girls were vain," said Eunoe as she peered in with a flashlight. "Ah, hmm…"

"We're just like other girls," Ryouko said. "The only ones who are different are the older ones. Didn't you have a friend like that?"

"Sort of," said Eunoe as she squinted at the interior of the bomb. "More like she was obsessed with keeping them sharp. Used to complain about having to do manual labor, practiced hand-to-hand like a maniac."

Eunoe paused. "I wonder what happened to her. We sort of drifted apart after going to basic training."

"Huh," Ryouko said, unsure what to say. "Well, I guess some people are eccentric."

She paused, realizing that wasn't that exciting an answer.

"How, uh, is the bomb?"

"Well," hedged Eunoe. "I uh, I'm not sure. The good news is that the primary relay didn't fire. It looks like it's been crushed by the impact, so even though it's trying to close, it can't really contact the tabs. But, since the supercapacitor is such a high voltage, the current is jumping across the gaps. We're lucky, because the crimp is so high up the casing that the current can't just form a plasma bridge. So, I guess, it's probably good to pull the relays? Probably won't do anything bad?"

"What do you mean precisely, pull?" Ryouko asked, peering at the assembly skeptically. "You want me to pull it out?"

"I guess teleporting it would be best," Eunoe mused. "Your powers just slice the wires, right? I don't want to have the terminals touch by accident."

"Yes," Ryouko said.

"Just be careful then, alright?" Eunoe said, shifting aside carefully so Ryouko could move up.

"I will."

Ryouko stepped forward and stretched her hand forward for a long moment, the both of them tense. Then she vanished with the relays, and Eunoe stood frozen, half-expecting to be dead a moment later.

Nothing happened. Then, slowly, the icy glow of the eezo warhead dimmed to blackness.

Eunoe let out a breath as Ryouko returned in a flash of green.

"We're good?" Ryouko asked.

"Yeah, bomb's inactive," said Eunoe, glancing at the dull amber of her omnitools to confirm. "It's inert, or at least enough that we can take our time pulling it out. The only risk is the rubble collapsing on us now."

"Great…" Ryouko muttered, looking up again nervously. "Okay, then, come with me."

Eunoe pushed herself to her feet with a sigh, following Ryouko towards the far wall. What a day.

"Here," said Ryouko, pointing at a gap in the rubble. "Do you see her?"

Eunoe grimaced and pointed her flashlight at the gap. There wasn't much she could see, really, except for the outline of a small, human hand wedged between two pieces of concrete.

"That's pretty far in," said Eunoe.

"Like I said, I'd have to teleport the rubble as well as her," said Ryouko.

"What's her name?"

"Sammie, though I think that's short for 'Samantha'. There are two transponders next to her, her parents probably, but…"

Eunoe took a deep breath.

"Best get Sammie out first," she said. "She'll need medical treatment, right? We can drop a marker and come back for her parents."

Ryouko nodded, reaching out with her hands to grasp Eunoe and the rubble next to Sammie.

"Teleport in three, two, one."

They vanished in a flash of green.

* * *

Emma cradled her drink as she wandered through the formal declaration of the cessation of hostilities, trying her best to look like she had something to do. Not for the first time, she wished Ayane were here, or even Anna—she just wasn't good with these kinds of events, and it was easier with two people. It didn't help that the party was stocked with literal aliens, even if she liked some of them. But she was the only magical girl with experience of any kind in this sort of thing, and the vote had unanimously elected her to represent them at the diplomatic function.

Emma couldn't help but notice that both Nadya Antipova and Clarisse van Rossum had been conveniently absent from that particular conversation.

"You there! Ms. Sinclair!"

The summons took Emma by surprise, as did its source—Field Marshal Wolanski, who was apparently drinking with an alien her implants tentatively identified as Legate Septimus (estimate: 85% accuracy). The two had found a quiet table, off to the side, with only a slight amount of paranoid bodyguards lurking in the background.

"Uh, hello, sir?" she asked awkwardly, as she walked up to them.

"Come, sit," said Field Marshal Wolanski, pulling out a chair for her with a grand gesture.

"Thank you sir."

"You drink, yes?" he asked, producing a flask of something clear and pouring soundlessly into a small glass.

"Really, is it wise to be giving that to a juvenile?" Septimus asked, raising an eye-ridge…skeptically? Emma was surprised by how many facial expressions Turians shared with humans.

"We have implants to deal with it," Field Marshal Wolanski dismissed. "Anyway, I find it is always good to drink after combat. It helps you forget, and commemorates your fallen comrades—or makes you feel better about it, at least."

"Thank you," Emma said simply, accepting the glass even as she smoothly finished her other drink and set it down.

"You're probably wondering why I called you over here," Field Marshal Wolanski said.

Emma nodded.

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, I was telling the Legate here about human culture, and how even though we don't look like we fight very much, we pack a mean punch. Back in the Wars, there were civilians who went out with sticks and stones against drones and artillery, yes? We did not cower in our bunkers. What were you doing before this fighting started, Miss Sinclair?"

Field Marshal Wolanski knew the answer from the nomenclator of course, but Emma knew an invitation to explain out loud when she saw one.

"I was a field researcher for an investment firm," Emma said. "Visiting new markets, due diligence, that kind of thing."

She chose to avoid mentioning that she had never been very satisfied with that career.

"You see? Not martial at all," Wolanski said.

"Would that the Volus could fight like you," Septimus said, tone neutral. "If you'll pardon my asking, you were one of the new, ah, special girls, right? We never encountered too much in the way of civilian militia."

"That's correct," Emma said. "Naturally that was a, uh, secret before all this."

She took a sip of her drink to hide her discomfiture. Looking around the room, she finally spotted someone she knew—Eunoe, off in the distance, talking with one of the other alien types.

"And a very interesting secret it was," Wolanski said, watching her carefully over his own glass. "A lot of things about the old wars make sense now. I'm going to have to update some of my stories."

"We'll have to update our own civil defense policies," Septimus said. "We believe very much in having a ready civilian population, especially given some incidents in our past."

"Yes, apparently we should all be ready for an alien attack at any time," Wolanski said dryly, and this time the line felt sharp.

Emma stepped away from the conversation now that it no longer really involved her.

"Over here," someone said, translated voice lower and rough in that distinctive way she had come to associate with Turians.

"Oh, Eunoe," she said, more to herself than anyone else, as she made her way towards the gesturing alien. She hadn't yet learned to distinguish them well by voice, but she recognized Eunoe from what she now realized was a distinctive facial scar.

Emma tilted her head slightly when she got there, recognizing Eunoe's friend Adrea and… two other aliens she wasn't familiar with, one a blue Asari and the other one some kind of lizard-person who seemed deeply engrossed in its omnitool. A quick check revealed the Asari was also a magical girl, which wasn't terribly surprising.

 _Okay, going to have to do my best not to think of others as lizard-people,_ she noted to herself.

"Emma, this is Jaira T'Ari, she's the senior Asari diplomat assigned here," said Eunoe. "She was responsible for mediation efforts between our races."

"Nice to meet you," Emma said, unsure if she should offer to shake hands or what.

"Indeed," Jaira said, keeping her hands behind her back and making no other gesture. "Eunoe has been telling me about you, and the other humans she met."

"Met" seemed like an appropriate euphemism, so Emma just nodded.

"And it's nice to meet you. I have to say, I never thought I'd be shaking hands with any senior diplomats."

She paused a fraction of a second, realizing that she had referred to "shaking hands" in a nonsensical context.

"A human custom, I assume?" Jaira asked. "How does it work?"

"Er, it's essentially exactly what it sounds like," said Emma awkwardly. "It's said that it arose from traders trying to show peaceful intent back in ancient times."

"An interesting custom," said the lizard-person, glancing up from their screen. "Turians have a similar one."

"A salute isn't quite the same," Adrea said, sipping from her drink. "It comes from our tribal past and allegiance to a lord or emperor."

The lizard-person shrugged. "Still analogous. Thaleon, by the way. My species is Salarian."

Emma made a face that she really hoped was a smile. "Ah, pleasure to meet you. I hope you're not being distracted?"

"No, no, just some work I should have done earlier but procrastinated on," Thaleon said, tapping away again at something on his omnitool. "It's rude for me to be doing work at this event, but, well, you know how it is. Always busy."

"Salarians are, uh, known for being hard-working and restless," Jaira said, smiling broadly. "But _not_ for being rude."

She elbowed Thaleon lightly.

"Oh alright," he said, closing his omnitool. "But I have a mountain of reports to file. We live short lives you know."

"So you never tire of reminding us," Jaira said.

Emma had an odd feeling. Wasn't Jaira a diplomat? Why was she bickering with the Salarian?

"I may as well give an introduction to us Salarians," Thaleon said, raising one arm in a—theatrical gesture? Was that what it was supposed to be?

"We Salarians are known for being scientists, scholars, artists, that kind of thing," Thaleon said. "And yes, spies. Personally, I work for the Special Tactics Group. I'm basically a special agent. I wouldn't normally admit as much, but it's a diplomatic function, and for once I'm supposed to be here. Even if the official invitation took a bit of wrangling."

"He's technically here as her partner, you know," Adrea said, nodding her head at Jaira and looking smug about something.

Emma blinked. "Romantically, you mean?"

"Yes."

"I… see," said Emma, sipping her drink slowly. "…how does that work, exactly?"

The collective blinked at her.

"What do you mean?" asked Adrea. "Mechanically, it's still tab A inserts into slot B, but—"

"Adrea!"

"I kid, I kid," Adrea laughed, dodging Eunoe's elbow. "But seriously, interspecies relationships are fairly common in Citadel space. I suppose we're all a little confused by your reaction."

"Oh, er, well, I suppose I'm just not used to it?" Emma said. She took another sip of her drink. "Does it— er, I mean, do you— or I guess can you have, er…"

"Ah, right, you've not learned about Asari biology," said Adrea. "It's a bit special. I won't bore you with a discussion of it, but consult the files you were given."

"Files?" Emma asked.

Jaira cast a sideways glance at no one in particular.

"Right, Thaleon, can you be a dear and go find out what the issue is with that, if she hasn't gotten any files?"

"Oh, you're doing this deliberately," Thaleon scoffed, rolling his eyes. "But alright, for you, I'll go find someone."

They watched as he walked off, holding a glass of alcohol dramatically in the air.

 _So Asari biology lesson,_ Jaira thought, leaning forward. _We're actually asexual reproducers, but we need a partner to, you know, stimulate the process. They also contribute to the child, via influence on hormones and other mysterious stuff. Anyway, as a species we don't particularly care what species the romance is with, you see._

 _I see,_ Emma said, unsure what else she was supposed to say.

 _It makes it kind of odd when the other is a Salarian, though,_ Adrea thought. _Asari naturally live to be around a thousand galactic years. Salarians barely forty. There's quite a rush sometimes to get it going, if you understand my drift._

 _I suppose,_ Emma thought, not sure why they were telling her this.

"Oh stop making fun of her, and me," Jaira said. "You act like you've known me for centuries."

Adrea shrugged vaguely. It occurred to Emma that they might very well have known each other for centuries.

"Speaking of that, Jaira, what are you planning to do once all this is over?"

"I'm not sure," said Jaira. "There's… a lot to go through."

She gave Adrea a meaningful glance that largely went unnoticed as Thaleon returned. The two of them had been magical girls for centuries now, and never before had they seriously considered what they would do with the Phoenix Foundation revealed. The organization had emergency plans, of course, plans that were even now underway, but there was no disguising how unnerving, how potentially cataclysmic, it would be for everyone involved.

Yet the MSY directly engaging with its own government showed that it was at least possible without disaster. Certainly, there was no getting around the fact that it would upend the entire social order. On the one hand, there was a lot of potential for positive exchange of ideas and history. There were a few ancient magical girls with over a millennium of memories that the Library of Thessia would want to speak to. On the other hand…

Well. The Krogan members of the Phoenix Foundation had been chafing at the bit for centuries to cure the genophage. Maybe not on a wide scale, not without a wish at least, but on an individual level, each magical girl was at least in principle capable of eradicating the genophage from herself and any partner she chose. The fact that there hadn't been more widespread dissension in the ranks was a testament to the strength of the bond between magical girls in the Phoenix Foundation. But the Krogans would learn the truth soon, and then…

 _It's hard to predict_ , Adrea murmured in Jaira's mind. _Even the wisest cannot tell._

 _I know, but it's my job to try anyway,_ Jaira murmured back. _Do you think we should?_

 _I'm hopeful,_ Adrea sighed, sipping at her drink thoughtfully as the conversation drifted onwards. _I've had enough of hiding myself away every few decades. It's high time to start living in the light of day_.

Jaira smiled at herself and took a drink. Living in the light of day, huh? That would be nice.

* * *

Two armies stood across from each other in a field on Nazra Invictus. Between the two was a small strip of empty land, torn asunder by shot and shell, but for one small outcrop of stone which marked the furthest point any Turian had reached before being pushed back by the Human counteroffensive. A single long crack ran from one side to the other, the work of some projectile whose origin was now unknown.

There stood a rock on the fields of Nazra Invictus, the remnants of some geological past that only time now remembered. It was a rock that had been bitterly contested, its base stained with the blood of Human and Turian alike.

Around this rock a ring now stood, formed with the weapons of the fallen in the distant fields, hence to remain as a testament, until such time as a suitable replacement was found. It was a small thing, a simple thing, and the best that could be accomplished in the time available. But it was enough, and in truth, would the fallen have wished to be remembered any other way?

This had not been a true war. A scuffle, perhaps, or at worst a brawl, and officially it would be referred to in the history books as the Arcanorum Skirmish or simply as First Contact, depending on who was writing. Despite this, as in all such things, people had died.

In the Turian base, construction had begun. The latest diplomatic directives had ceded control of a small sector of the surface of Nazra Invictus to the Hierarchy, and the Hierarchy had no intention of letting that go to waste. As the planet's sun sank towards the horizon, Legate Septimus stood at the top of the command center, its hardened walls scarred by shot and shell and magic and spear. These would be patched, the holes filled with concrete and covered by alloy plate, but he couldn't help but wonder if other holes, torn open by the pain and horror of combat, could ever be patched. Turian custom was to begin military service at fifteen, but in this day and age few such children were thrown into pitched combat. There was no need, even if they were trained to do so. For the humans…

Septimus sighed and flicked his omnitool on. There was much to do.

Elsewhere, Clarisse van Rossum tapped steadily on the back of her chisel, carefully—ever so carefully—cutting into the top of the mountain. She rarely, if ever, wrote poetry, and the few pieces that she had made in her long years were nothing worth noting. She had watched great masters select their words before, their pens and brushes laying down characters whose origin she, to this day, could not divine. Perhaps with time, she would improve? And yet, to have lived these hundreds of years and still not have understood…

Well, it was her own fault. Her old master had always sighed and said that there was no helping the restless impatience that drove her forever onwards. Today here, tomorrow over there, like—

"—a caged bird, who feels the morning breeze and yet cannot reach it," Clarisse murmured to herself, smiling fondly at the memory. Too apt, Yoshino-sensei. If only you knew.

Alas that Clarisse had chosen to leave the country just before Yoshino-sensei had passed. So many stories, left untold…

Clarisse wiped the single tear from the characters she had carved into the mountain. That was the thing about people dying. Every person whose life was blotted out by the inkstain of war, struck out with the stroke of a pen, was another lost storybook, the pages burned and the ashes scattered upon the wind.

Fire blossomed in Clarisse's hand as she pulled a bowl of sand out of her pack and placed it in front of the headstone she had worked into the side of the mountain. A flick of her wrist brought sticks of incense to her hand, and another gesture set their tips alight.

"My Lady, who dwells in heaven, hallowed be the souls which pass up to you," Clarisse whispered. "I pray that they may find the guidance they need to rest in peace. May their stories find their place in your halls, so that they are not forgotten. I—"

"—pray—"

—for the Spirits which inhabit these lands, that they may forgive us for the destruction we have caused," Adrea intoned, pouring out a glass of Turian whiskey into the waters of the lake that had bounded the northern edge of the invasion, "and I pray that the dead will forgive us, for the pain we caused them in their passing. Let all who come here know that, under this sacred ground, the dead lie faithful to their orders, unto the ending of the world."

A young soldier laid a lit torch against the funeral pyre, lighting it as it was rolled into the water by the others. It was an old-fashioned custom, rarely invoked to great fanfare except for state funerals, and certainly not typical for a light skirmish like what had occurred here. But Adrea felt differently. She felt that meeting a new species, a spacefaring one especially, merited a proper burial for the dead.

Evidently, she wasn't alone.

An old Turian hymn rose up behind her as the gathered soldiers began to sing. They were few in number, compared to the army from which they came, but it was enough to give the dead some of the respect they deserved. Eunoe was in attendance, though she hadn't felt up to lighting the pyre herself. The pain was still too sharp for her.

The pyre drifted outwards onto the lake, the blaze growing ever brighter, until it was visible from where the magical girls of Nazra Invictus had gathered with their platoons to celebrate the end of hostilities with a second, less formal party than the diplomatic affair which had been arranged earlier.

"So that's a Turian funeral huh?" asked one of the soldiers, sipping from a beer. "Didn't know they was so dramatic about it."

"Supposed to be a whole religion they still follow," said Annalise Shepard, sipping at her own beer. "Or at least, some of them."

"Is that so?" asked the soldier. "Ach, sounds like right bollocks, it does, but whatever floats their boat."

The group of soldiers and three magical girls snorted into their drinks.

"That was a stupid pun, Jenkins," Emma said, punching the man in the arm.

"I liked it," Asami said.

"Ah, finally, a lassie with good taste," said Jenkins cheerfully. "And here I was thinking you were all like little Bluebird here, all serious and the like."

"Emma? Serious?" Ryouko asked wonderingly, as if being shown something amazing for the first time. "That _happens_?"

Emma reached out to flick her kouhai on the head as the platoon roared in laughter. The half-hearted attacked whiffed as Ryouko ducked, eyes sparkling mischievously. Emma made a huffing noise and drank her beer with pretend offense.

"I guess this is it then," said another soldier, stretching in her seat. "Fighting's over, time to go home?"

"Not likely," Annalise said dryly. "We'll probably be made to become the local garrison. No more adventures for us—just boring patrols."

The group groaned sarcastically.

"Say it ain't so, ma'am," one of the soldiers in the back called out. "You mean we have to sit in _air conditioning_ all day?"

"Yeah, and not be forced inta hand-to-hand combat with alien animals nobody's ever seen before?" asked another. "Holy shit, how will we ever survive?"

"Yeah yeah, just don't get complacent," Annalise laughed. "Even if I _like_ dropping into hot zones—"

"You're the only one, Sarge!"

"—shut up Lewis or I'll weld your armor shut the next time you're in it," Annalise mock-growled. "As I was saying, as long as you knuckleheads don't embarrass us at the next battalion combat readiness review, I'll be happy."

"What _is_ going to happen now, though?" asked Ryouko. "So much has changed…"

"Well _you_ lot are probably heading back to Earth," said Jenkins, gesturing vaguely at the magical girls. "Yer all from Mitakihara, yeah?"

"That's right," said Emma.

"You'll be able to see your families and loved ones," said Annalise to the magical girls. "That'll be good."

They nodded. For a moment, the world paused. Ryouko and Emma and Asami thought of the past days and what had happened. They thought of how they had changed, and how different they now must be. Would they really be able to go home, just like that?

But mostly they thought of the hole in their hearts where their innocence had been, and which could only be filled by an uncertain future.

Then a champagne cork whistled into Annalise's head and the moment ended. She turned to yell at someone for being stupid, prompting other members of the platoon to start hurling bottle caps and start a chaotic brawl that only soldiers into their cups could start. Wide-eyed, Ryouko grabbed Asami and Emma and teleported them to the top of a small building, safely out of harm's way.

"Jeez, look at them go," Emma said, watching in fascination as battle lines began to be drawn behind the folding tables. "That's amazing."

Ryouko shook her head. "I expected better. During the fighting, they…"

She trailed off.

"We'll get through it, you know," said Emma after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"I just mean that we'll get through it," Emma repeated, shrugging. "It's hard, and there's so much that's different now, but we'll get through it. It's going to be okay, in the end. I mean, look around you."

Emma gestured at the setting sun. Asami pulled Ryouko into her, grasping Ryouko's hand tightly as they turned to follow Emma's hand.

"Look at the planet that we're on. Isn't it great that we can see it, even if it's a little scuffed up?" Emma folded her arms and smiled slightly, sadly, with a weight that she hadn't had before the fighting had started. But it was a smile. "I guess that's something I learned from all this: life's just going to pass by unless you stop and look at it. If you keep your head down all the time, you'll miss something beautiful."

Ryouko made a bitter noise. "And learning it this way was worth it?"

"No," said Emma truthfully, "it wasn't. But it's something, you know? And as long as we keep looking around us, at life and at everything that's wonderful about it, we'll be able to get through all this. We'll be able to keep going."

Ryouko considered. She had been feeling better, but she wasn't— it was too soon. There was still too much that she had to deal with. It was overwhelming sometimes, like being held underwater and not being able to use your magic to breath. Sometimes it was all she could do to keep from drowning. Asami helped, like a rope tied around her waist that kept pulling her back towards shore. If it weren't for Asami, Ryouko didn't know where she'd be by now.

Ryouko breathed in, then out.

"You're right," said Ryouko, squeezing Asami's hand.

"We will."


End file.
